Iris Potter and the Goblet's Surprise
by AutumnSouls
Summary: The Girl Who Lived is young, small, but fierce and not easily controlled. A story of her mischief and troubles in her fourth year of Hogwarts. New tasks, humor, fem!Harry/Fleur. Not related to my other story, Tales of Three.
1. All Hallows' Eve

**IMPORTANT NOTE:**

This fic sorta ends at Chapter 15, in the middle of Iris's fourth year. I say sorta because while I abandoned this fic, I did release a short little epilogue to give closure. You can also find a new story that covers Iris's third year, has her characterization, but is still a whole new story that's not at all related to this one.

You might find this a good read, but be aware that this story is not _exactly_ finished. Still, it's a fun ride for what it is.

 **Disclaimer:** None of this story is mine; not this chapter nor the rest.

 **Cover Photo:** The credit for the wonderful cover photo, named "Black Panther Watercolor", goes to Zdeňka Kosková.

* * *

 **o**

 _ **Iris Potter and the Goblet's Surprise**_

 **o**

 **Chapter 1**

 **All Hallows' Eve**

 **1994, October 31, Hogwarts.**

"Iris Potter _._ "

The whisper swept across the Great Hall like a gentle, bitter wind, but the only person who might have shivered, had she heard it, sat in the far back, leaning against the wall with her two best friends. She knew though. It didn't take the turning of many heads for her to realize what had just happened. She didn't lock gazes with any of the countless students and staff members now staring at her. She wasn't surprised that it had come, and yet, her breath still caught in her throat.

The moment it was announced that the drawing would be held on Halloween, a heavy sinking feeling had settled itself deep within her stomach. If there was anyone in Hogwarts that could talk of bad luck, especially when it came to Halloween, it was Iris Potter. The deaths of her parents; a twelve-foot troll; the petrification of a cat by basilisk; the breaking in of the Gryffindor tower by a raving, murdering lunatic.

Maybe he wasn't a murderer in the end, but Sirius Black certainly didn't do himself any favors in regards to lunacy.

"Iris Potter!"

She had told nearly _all_ of them. Hermione, Ron, the twins, Neville, Ginny, the Quidditch team, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and even Snape. She told every single one of them and a few more that she would be dragged — kicking and screaming if she had any say in it — into this tournament; with the Dark Mark appearing over the summer, Moody being attacked right before he would come to Hogwarts as a professor — well, she really had no reason to believe this would be a normal year.

But now, when it was time for the kicking and screaming, Iris couldn't seem to say anything at all. All the arguments she had built up in her mind were now slipping away, and everybody staring at her certainly didn't help.

Instead, it seemed Ron was willing to speak for her. He opened his mouth, and in what must have been the most uncertain voice imaginable, he said, "No?"

"Wow," Hermione breathed, shaking her head at Ron.

"Sorry, Mr. Weasley?" said Albus Dumbledore, a man Iris profoundly respected, at least until now. Oh, she still respected him; it was only the _profoundly_ part that she was questioning now, along with just how competent of a headmaster he really was if, _yet again_ , her life was at stake inside the walls of Hogwarts.

"Uh, nothing," Ron said, giving an apologetic look to Iris, who had got up and walked to the headmaster now, trying her best to ignore the incredulous and disbelieving stares from nearly everyone.

"I could have sworn I warned you about this, sir," Iris said quietly enough that only a few heard her.

"Enter through the door there," Dumbledore said. "We will sort this out soon."

"More like I'm going to end up getting tossed into another —"

Dumbledore looked down at her, his blue eyes informing her that this was not the time. Iris sighed and nodded once to say she understood.

She took the paper containing her name in her own writing; _obviously ripped off an assignment I turned in_ , she thought. She made her way to the antechamber and entered. It was a room full of paintings, trinkets, books, furniture, and other nonsense, and a fireplace rested centered against the farthest wall.

Viktor Krum stood near the fireplace, looking menacing, and Iris knew the comparisons between her flying skills and his would be made now that she was in the tournament, if they had not been made already.

Cassius Warrington was in his seventh year and the actual Hogwarts champion. He had short brown hair with his fringe pushed back, a strong jaw, a straight nose, and was handsome. She didn't doubt for one second that Slytherin would hate her more than ever. Perhaps the rest of the school too, she had always heard Cassius was one of the Slytherins that most of the rest of the school was okay with.

And in one of the chairs, sat Fleur Delacour. There was no doubt she was far more than just a pretty face, but Iris knew there would be comparisons there as well. Perhaps not in the _Daily Prophet_ but amongst her fellow students — she had heard it before. And did she even compare? Fleur looked like a goddess. Iris? Iris felt she was too skinny from her summer of malnutrition and her curves were nowhere near those of the French girl's. Her black hair felt boring compared to Fleur's silvery-blonde. Even Fleur's ice blue eyes competed with her vibrant, emerald green eyes. Though, Iris was fond of the very light freckles sprinkled across only her nose and upper cheeks.

But Fleur didn't have a scar on the corner of her forehead.

"What is it?" Fleur asked. "Do zey want us to go back outside?"

Iris opened her mouth to say no, that she was going to be the fourth champion, but she couldn't. She suddenly wanted to be very alone, to maybe throw something. She had really wanted one peaceful year at Hogwarts, but it looked as though this year would be the least peaceful of all. Five tasks. There would be five dangerous tasks she'd need to get past — no, five tasks she'd need to _survive_.

Could there be a decent chance she'd die this year? Was her luck just this terrible?

"Yep," Iris said, answering her own question. The other three must have taken this as an answer to Fleur's question, for they moved from their positions and walked towards the door. Iris sat down, not bothering to correct them. When the door burst open just as Viktor Krum reached for the handle, he was sent tumbling down the stairs. He let out a low pitiful moan that caused Iris to laugh before she managed to clap her hands over her mouth. He glared at her through pained eyes.

"Viktor! Are you hurt? _Why_ are you hurt? This is clearly sabotage!" came the voice of Karkaroff.

"Yeah, clearly. Didn't you get the 'Burn Durmstrang, Burn' leaflets?" Iris muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear. Fleur couldn't contain her snort of amusement. Karkaroff's head spun to her and his eyes widened as if he had just discovered a mass conspiracy.

Dumbledore looked at Karkaroff before turning his attention to Iris. He looked pointedly at the piece of paper that held her name and then back at her, a clear question on his face.

Iris gave him a look that clearly said, 'Really? _Me?_ ' Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at her for a moment before nodding and turning back to the matter at hand. Iris did so too and saw that Karkaroff had moved on to plots about bringing him down while McGonagall tried to calm him, unsuccessfully.

"Yes, yes, everybody here is out to get you. We meet on Sunday evenings to discuss different ways to bring your school down. I suggested throwing you to the colony in the —

"Potter, enough." McGonagall shot her a sharp look.

Snape stared at her, looking like an insult was on the tip of his tongue. "So, Potter, this is the newest ploy of yours, is it? Another attempt to —"

"Will you just knock it off, Snape? I don't care for your insults right now," Iris said irritably. She was about to be thrown into a tournament that had claimed many lives before, and if Snape pushed his luck, he might find himself to be the first casualty.

"Potter, you think —"

Dumbledore stopped them before they started. "Severus, Iris, _both of you_ , enough."

"Detention, Potter, for the next week!" Snape snarled. "And once we prove you placed your name in the —"

"I said, both of you, _enough,"_ Dumbledore said. "It's _Professor_ Snape, Iris. And Severus, you _are_ a professor. Act as such. We have talked about this. And there will be no detentions, if you can remember. Now," Dumbledore said, much more cheerily. "We are getting off topic. It appears we've a fourth champion."

Iris took great pleasure in seeing that Snape's face was still slightly purple from anger. She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Vat?" said Krum after a moment of silence.

"Oh, very funny joke, Mister Dumbledore," said Fleur.

"Joke?" Bagman repeated. "No, no, not at all! Iris's name just came out of the Goblet!"

"But evidently zere 'as been a mistake," she said to Bagman, shooting Madame Maxime a look. "She obviously cannot compete. She is too young."

She wasn't going to argue there — she _was_ too young. She expected to be involved in the tournament _somehow,_ given her luck with Halloween, but to be a fourth champion?

"Well... it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Iris. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as her name's come out of the goblet... I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage... It's down in the rules, you're obliged! Iris will just have to do the best she can, I think."

"Bagman is right. It is a magical contract, therefore you would lose your magic if you were to not participate," said Crouch from next to Dumbledore.

Iris found that her mouth was very dry, and then arguments broke out. It seemed as though everyone was taking turns yelling at certain people in the room.

After a minute of this, where Iris had sat in a chair, trying to absorb everything, trying to calm down her pounding heart, Moody finally spoke above everybody else. "You know, I don't hear her complaining as much as you lot. And you'd think she would, given —"

"Why should she complain?" Madame Maxime said, sounding annoyed. "She has the chance to gain glory and honor for her school! And the prize money! This is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe because somebody is hoping she _is_ going to die for it," Moody growled.

"Oh, preposterous!" yelled Karkaroff. "You consider the morning wasted if you have not discovered six different plots to murder you by lunchtime!"

"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh?" Moody said with an almost maniacal glint in his one real eye. "It would take a powerful wizard to confound the Goblet, oh yes, but it would be doable. I'm guessing they put Potter's name in as a fourth school. It is a magically binding contract, she must compete. There's no way out. Now that I think of it, we should have put escaped Death Eater names into the Goblet to remove their magic, eh?" Moody chuckled darkly after looking pointedly at Karkaroff's left arm, which Karkaroff grasped instantly.

 _The Dark Mark?_ Iris had read up on Death Eaters and the Dark Mark after the Quidditch World Cup event, so she knew plenty of Death Eaters getting off free. Some through bribery, as Mr. Weasley had said, and others because they redeemed themselves. Karkaroff didn't seem the type to be filthy rich nor did he seem like he's _redeemed_ himself.

The conversation went on for a few more moments before one of Fleur's comments caught the attention of Iris, who was zoning out a bit.

"Madam Maxime, you said — zey are saying zat zis little girl is really to compete, zat zere is no way to... kick her out. You said zis would be _worth it_!" Iris looked back at Fleur with mild annoyance on her face, which Fleur caught. Irritably, she added, "Quelle? You are a fourth year, non? You _are_ far too young to compete."

"Yes," Iris said slowly, "I am too young to be in this tournament, but there's no need to call me a _leetle_ _girl,_ " she finished using a mock French accent. "Really, I don't even want to be here."

"You zink you are capable of holding your own against those three years better? I did not travel all this way to compete with a fourth year! Madame Maxime, when you spoke to me of zis, I did not —"

"Fleur, hush," said Madame Maxime, and Fleur's eyes flared.

"Well, the tournament won't be toned down for Iris, Miss Delacour," Bagman said, trying to calm matters down. Dumbledore stood to the side with a blank expression on his face. Iris had the feeling that he wasn't paying attention at all, that he also didn't even want to be here. It almost made Iris laugh.

"I don't want to hold my own against anyone," she said. "I don't even want to be here, but you're not going to be competing with a worthless first year."

Fleur threw her hair back and laughed. The wall Iris built to control her temper shifted ominously.

"Girls, enough, please," Dumbledore said, halfheartedly.

"You are upset zis tournament will overshadow your fame so you feel you must cheat to get in. I can not believe I let myself get talked —"

The wall crumbled and fell.

"Good god, you're like the epitome of a spoiled little bitch."

"Iris Potter!" McGonagall said, gasping along with Madame Maxime. Dumbledore closed his eyes and looked as though he was internally groaning; Snape looked livid, naturally; Karkaroff and Moody were still arguing about who was more of a madman, and weren't paying the slightest bit of attention to them; Cassius Warrington was reading a book he had somehow found, seemingly not at all interested in what was going around him; Krum's head was snapping from person to person, argument to argument; Crouch was talking calmly to Bagman, who looked as though he was stopping himself from jumping up and down.

"Iris, what did I just say two minutes ago?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Do — do not call my student that!" said Madam Maxime after a moment of shock.

"Spoiled? You do not know me," Fleur whispered furiously, also after getting over her shock.

"And you don't know me, so quit assuming I'm some poor defenseless girl," Iris said irritably, leaning back in her chair.

"Zat is exactly what you are! What spells do you possibly know zat could be used for zis tournament? Are you going to win the tournament with a tickling charm? Or perhaps you will battle a manticore with _A_ _lohomora?_ Or maybe you can use the Water-Making Charm to fill up the baths of the judges, scrub their backs clean, so zey can give you some points, non?"

Iris raised her eyebrows at Fleur, purposely making herself look amused. She knew it would get to the French witch.

"Girls!" said Bagman, laughing nervously.

"Fleur, enough!" Madam Maxime said, glaring at Fleur.

Iris took out her wand. It was clear the others thought she was about to hex Fleur, but their protests died with Iris's first word.

" _Expecto_ _Patronum_ ," she said, casually waving her wand in a circle and ending the movement with a small upwards flick. It was instant. There was no beginning mist. A beautiful silvery doe instantly burst from her wand and flew straight through Fleur, who gasped lightly, and ran around the room. All the other arguments that were going on at the same time had stopped as the doe scattered the feeling of joy and hope. Iris thought it was a rather effective way to get everybody to shut up.

Dumbledore was staring at the wall with an unreadable expression, shaking his head slightly. Snape wasn't sneering, surprisingly, but looked _pained_ at the sight of the doe. Bagman's jaw was hanging comically low. Crouch had an eyebrow raised.

Iris stared at Fleur. "Not even close to the only advanced spell I know," she said, fully aware that it was actually one of the very few. Iris took a deep breath. "Right then, I didn't come here to get insulted. Good day to you Headmaster, McGonagall, Bagman, Cassius, crazy grinning dude in the back," she finished, giving a smile to Moody, who she had grown comfortable enough with to insult playfully.

"Like Bagman said, Miss Delacour, the tournament won't be toned down for me," Iris said, having already reached the door. "Not that _I'd_ be the one they would need to tone it down for. Former Death Eater Headmaster, Madame Maxime, I'm truly sorry you've traveled all this way. After all, it'll be a completely pointless trip once your champions are thoroughly put to shame by a fourteen year old."

"The first task is on the twenty-fourth of November, Iris!" Bagman called out. Iris nodded. "Also, we won't be telling any of you what it is. It'll test your daring and courage in the face of the unknown! All you're allowed is your wand and the clothes on your back. We'll tell you a little bit more right before the task but not much. We'll talk of the other four tasks at a later time!" Iris gave another nod and walked out the door.

All the heads turned to Dumbledore.

He sat down and gave a great sigh, thinking of teenagers and their temper tantrums.

* * *

Iris grimaced to herself. Shamed, embarrassed, humiliated by a fourteen year old? Why in the world did she say that? If she was an adult, and a fourth year had said all that in front of her, she'd laugh at her. And she _was_ fourteen. She stood no chance in this tournament and she knew it. She would be made a fool in front of the entire school. And she didn't even do much to enforce anyone's belief that she was innocent.

She certainly wasn't going to enjoy the victorious grin of Fleur should she win the tournament.

Iris was irritated with herself. She cursed herself, Fleur, the adults for their incompetence, Voldemort, too, because he obviously had something to do with this. She knew she shouldn't have left it to the staff to make sure her name didn't get tossed in. It wasn't as though she had any proof that it would happen, but she figured Dumbledore would at least have a portrait look over the Goblet of Fire.

After stringing a few more swear words into the most colorful sentence, she found herself in front of the Gryffindor portrait.

Before she told the fat lady the password, she realized that there was a chance second year would be repeated. The majority of Gryffindor house believed her to be the Heir of Slytherin and therefore responsible for the petrifications. Nevermind the fact that her best friend was a muggleborn. No, she had long ago come to the conclusion that the wizarding world was full of Vernon Dursleys. Idiots, the lot of them.

Compared to the silence of the corridors, the sudden explosion of noise almost made Iris's bones tremble. Before she knew what was happening, she was surrounded. Screaming, whistling, shouts of congratulations, it was deafening. Creevy was snapping pictures; Angelina was talking of how "at least a Gryffindor had made it in"; the twins were even on their knees _bowing_ to her. Iris knew she should be grateful for their support but she was still incredibly frustrated. Surprised, too, that no one seemed to be angry with her — but didn't they realize that there would be a very real chance she'd be dead soon? After a few minutes of them congratulating her on tricking the Goblet —

"Enough!" she bellowed. The room quieted. Some people looked excited, as if she was going to give a motivational speech. Others, who knew her better, became wary.

"Speech?" asked Fred.

"Damn it, Fred, George, whoever, no," Iris snapped at him, and she felt bad that he flinched. She gave a deep sigh to calm herself and then spoke. "Look, I get that you're all very happy that a Gryffindor is a Champion —"

"Yeah!"

"Damn right!"

"Go Iris!"

" _But_!" Iris interrupted, silencing the room again, "I'm not. Excited, that is. You all don't get it, do you? You guys are going to get to watch it all for entertainment so I get your excitement but the last thing I am right now is excited. I did not put my name into the Goblet — no, don't interrupt! — nor did I ask anyone else to do it. Don't you all think I have enough fame as it is? Any of you that actually _know_ me know damn well that I despise my fame, and if you don't believe me, come up with just _one_ instance of me using my fame for my own gain. And a time where you actually saw it with your own eyes too, not a rumor. I hate my fame. As for the galleons, if I somehow win, I'm giving them away. I'm a Potter, I don't need the galleons. There is literally no reason whatsoever for me entering myself."

The crowd gathered in the common room stared, some a bit disbelieving.

"I mean, don't you all get it? This isn't a _game_ for me. This is going to be life or death. They're not toning this tournament down for me — Bagman said so himself —and it's designed for people _three years older_ than me. I haven't got a bloody chance. And I'm not just talking about winning the damn thing, I'm talking surviving too. I might be dead before the school year is over; I might be dead before Christmas! So no, I'm not going to celebrate my likely death. I'll appreciate your support, I really will, and I'm very happy you all are supporting me right now, even if for the wrong reasons, because I was fully expecting most of you to hate me, but I can't bring _myself_ to be happy." Iris looked around the room and saw a few people whispering to each other, slight disbelief stretched across their faces. Iris sighed. Some of them didn't believe her.

"Why would we hate you?" George asked, confusion.

"I dunno, I was afraid you'd think I put my name in myself and refused to tell any of you how I did it. I know how much you and Fred wanted to be in the tournament," Iris said, and in a quieter tone, added, "Thought maybe Angelina would be upset I took a possible chance away from her or something."

"What?" Angelina said. "It's not like I would have been chosen if you hadn't been. Warrington was already the Hogwarts champion."

Iris shrugged, feeling a bit foolish.

"Don't worry, Iris," Katie said. "Go get some rest, I can see you're stressed. We'll support you — because you can be certain that the rest of the school won't. Both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff like Cassius; he's one of the good Slytherins, you know? He's not afraid of taking points away from his own house."

After saying her goodbyes, she headed upstairs to her dormitory. She hadn't seen Hermione in the common room and was hoping she wouldn't be awake. She didn't want to be asked how she was doing, what happened, if she was planning murders, why she was angry — at least not now. They could wait until the morning. Luck, as usual, was not on her side, however, as Hermione was indeed waiting for her as she opened her dorm room. Before she could even close it, a blur of wild brown hair had crashed into her.

"Oh, Iris! I'm so sorry! Things always happen to you, don't they? I just don't understand how anyone could be _this_ unlucky. I mean, your terrible luck almost seems beyond even magic itself, doesn't it? I hope you're okay, I heard you yelling but I figured it would be best for you to let it out. You really did handle it well out there. Usually you miss a lot of points you should make and end up having to repeat those missed points later on to individuals over and over and over but I think you got them all this time — I mean when it comes to the fame and gold and how you have it all, of course, and even called out the disbelievers before they even got a word in by making them think on if you had ever actually used your fame. Brilliant, really. Now all you have to do is drop that ridiculous class, Divinations and —"

"Hermione, _breathe._ Deep breaths. Good lord woman, how you haven't spit out a lung yet is beyond me," Iris said as she continued to hold Hermione.

Hermione pulled away from the hug, and gave Iris a half-hearted glare. Then she threw herself at Iris again for another hug.

"Sorry, I'm just worried for you. People have died in these tournaments before, and I know you can take care of yourself — well _mostly_ — don't give me that raised eyebrow, don't let me remind you of nearly every Quidditch match —"

"You are _seriously_ exaggerating, Hermione."

Hermione ignored this. "What happened?" she said. "Can you get out of the tournament? Somehow I doubt it given your cartoonish luck, but —"

"Hold on, let's go to Ron's dorm first so I don't have to repeat it twice. But no, I can't get out. It's a magically binding contract. And speaking of Divinations, I'm thinking you're right. I should drop it."

"Well, that would be the more reasonable thing to do. Given what happens around you, Divinations is a bit worthless for you, isn't it?"

"Would I be able to learn enough of Ancient Runes to start using them? Set traps and the like, you know?" Iris asked.

"Well, yes, but drawing runes strong enough to be used in combat and ' _the_ _like_ ' is N.E.W.T. level spellwork, and it takes a _long_ time to learn. If you caught up to fourth year level, you _might_ be able to do it for the very last task, but _I_ can't even draw runes that could be useful for that sort of thing." Hermione saw her best friend's unimpressed look, and added, "But don't let that dissuade you. It just takes time. If you become good at it, it can be _incredibly_ useful, especially as most people don't bother learning it. Could give you a real advantage once you graduate Hogwarts.

"I'd rather not think of graduating Hogwarts," Iris said solemnly.

"I was just saying. I do wish they had extra optional years one could take though," Hermione said.

"I'd take them in a heartbeat. I know I wouldn't have to go back to Privet Prison after graduation but still..."

"Here's a solution: Professor Potter. I bet you'd be good at it."

"Don't be stupid," Iris said dismissively.

"Really, think about it. You easily took control of the common room down there. Plus you'd have a ton of respect being who you are," Hermione said. Iris let out a derisive snort. "Oh whatever, just think about it. I know Moody told you to think about being an Auror but do you honestly think you won't be sick of fighting dark wizards and creatures by the time you graduate? I already am if we're being honest with ourselves."

"Yeah, s'ppose you're right," Iris said, squirming at her last comment. If Hermione had made friends with anyone but her, she wouldn't be facing dark wizards and creatures in the first place.

"Anyway, you should also consider taking Arithmancy," Hermione said as they walked into the boy's fourth year dormitory. Ron picked up Hermione's comment, apparently, as his jaw dropped.

"Arithmancy? Why on earth would she — wait, _also_? What do you mean also consider taking arithmancy? Iris, we were supposed to be partners in laziness!" Ron said in mock indignation.

"Actually, Ron's right," Iris said.

"Hm? Oh, I was kidding," said Ron. "You won't get me to take that class — I'd rather eat slugs again — but go for it I suppose, if you want that is."

"No, I know you were. I was just actually wondering why on earth I'd take arithmancy. Isn't it math stuff? I'd rather listen to Trelawney predict my death than do _math_ ," replied Iris.

"No, it isn't just _math,_ " Hermione replied indignantly. She opened her mouth to continue —

"I'd rather give Malfoy a massage," Ron interrupted.

"I'd rather play spin the bottle with your brothers," Iris said, making Ron chuckle.

"You two —" Hermione said, only to be interrupted again.

"I'd rather play spin the bottle with my sister," Ron said, chuckling.

Iris stopped and stared. "What's wrong with you?"

"What?" Ron said. "I — I wasn't — it was just —"

"No, seriously, your sister? Are you sure Lockhart didn't mess with your head?" Iris said very seriously, but at Ron's panicked look, she burst out laughing.

"Oh, very funny," he grumbled. Hermione shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"You two are so immature," Hermione said half-heartedly. "And Arithmancy is not just math, Iris. You should know better. But fine, don't think about it. Perhaps learning one of the key components to creating your own spells _just isn't that interesting,_ " Hermione said in a singsong voice.

"Creating spells?" Iris asked slowly.

"Oh yes, you must know Arithmancy to be able to create your own spells. But since you don't want to —"

"Shut up, you know damn well I want it."

Hermione smiled. "So, what happened?"

Iris then went on to explain everything that happened in the antechamber. Ron had a twitching expression on his face, as though he wasn't sure if he should laugh or scowl at the image of Krum falling down the stairs. Iris had finally managed to get a smile out of Hermione when she came to the point where she used the Patronus to get Fleur to shut up. That smile quickly disappeared when she told the two about her parting comments. Iris gave her sheepish smile. They spent twenty more minutes talking about what had been said in the antechamber before she and Hermione went back to their dorms to go to sleep.

"Hey, Iris?" Hermione called out after she activated the privacy spell that Hermione had set up to cover the distance from Iris's bed to hers. It was apparently Ancient Runes that had taught her how to do it. A silencing spell designed to stop any noise from within exiting could have been placed without any knowledge of Ancient Runes, of course, but the sphere of influence would be, quite literally, a sphere. With Hermione's knowledge in Ancient Runes, she was able to place one that would cover whatever it was that she wanted.

Truthfully, Iris had not even seen the small runes Hermione had sketched into parts of her bed to set up the area of the spell, something that exasperated Hermione. It allowed the two of them to have late night conversations without disrupting the other girls.

"Yes?"

"Er — well, I wanted to ask — I was wondering —"

"Spit it out, Hermione."

"Right. Well, in the Great Hall, I noticed you looking at the students of Beauxbatons an awful lot. The female students in particular."

Great. Hermione had finally figured it out, apparently.

It was odd. She had always expected Hermione to put the pieces together eventually, and she expected that her insides would feel like they were ready to explode once that moment came — now, however, it was as though she had no insides at all. She knew Hermione was open-minded, but even as backwards the wizarding world was in comparison to the muggle world, when it came to _this_ , even muggles were extremely prejudiced. Maybe not as much as Aunt Petunia was, but nonetheless, they were.

"You there, Iris?" Hermione whispered.

"Yeah. I was just confused. What do you mean?"

"It was just that it was _only_ the female students you were looking at," Hermione said.

"Oh. Yeah, I suppose so. I was curious about their fashion, makeup, that sort of thing."

There was a moment of silence before Hermione spoke again. "Iris, you don't care for makeup, nor do you care for —"

"Because I don't need it."

"Yes, _I know_ ," Hermione said stiffly. "But you put on only a minimal amount, and you often only wear a sweatshirt and joggers —"

"So what? What's your point?" Iris interrupted.

" _My point..._ is that you don't care for makeup or fashion, that you get annoyed when Lavender and Parvati talk to you about it." Hermione sighed. "Why are you trying to play dumb? You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Christ, what is this, the second World War? I'm not looking at the French for some nefarious purpose, alright?"

Hermione giggled in spite of herself. "I know you're not, and that's what I want you to understand," Hermione said. In a whisper, she added, "You're my best friend, Iris, and no matter what, that will _never_ change."

Iris didn't respond, but she understood.

Silence ensued. It appeared as though Hermione had indeed pieced it together. Iris had never shown any interest in guys whatsoever, but then again, neither did Hermione. Except Lockhart, perhaps, but Iris didn't like him from the start and Hermione knew that. Still, she wouldn't have put it past Hermione to catch her looking at Daphne Greengrass or Cho Chang.

It most likely didn't help that she had turned down every guy that had asked her out without even looking at the most of them. They were just two months into this school year and she had already turned down seven boys. She couldn't recall looking at a single one of them as she did it. She should have at least looked them in the eye instead of saying ' _nope_ ' and walking on. She sighed. Of course Hermione figured it out.

Iris flipped her blankets over herself, not realizing one was her Invisibility Cloak, and went to sleep.


	2. Daughter of Prongs

**Author's Notes:**

In this fic, a galleon is the equivalent to 20 pounds or 25 dollars. Also, Hermione is straight. There will be no Iris/Hermione, ever. They're just best friends. There are already a few fem!Harry/Hermione stories out there. I didn't want to do the same thing.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **Daughter of Prongs**

 **1994, November 1, Girls' Dormitory**

"Iris? Where in the world did she..."

When Iris woke up on Tuesday morning, it took her a moment to figure out why she had a sense of building dread in the pit of her stomach.

 _Oh_ _yes_ , she was thrown into a deadly tournament the day before. _Great_. She tossed her blanket over her, only to realize it was her invisibility cloak. In doing so, Hermione gave a great jump of surprise at her sudden appearance.

"Iris! _Please_ don't tell me you're sleeping under that damned cloak again — you know how annoying I find that. _The whole second half of first year_ ," she muttered under her breath as she went back to her bed to grab her toothbrush.

As Iris was making her way through her morning ritual, she noticed Hermione watching her closely as Lavender, Parvati, and Fay made their ways into the showers. Iris didn't respond to this, but internally, she was irritated.

 _Fine, Hermione figured it out,_ _b_ _ut must she act as though I'm a pervert?_

It wasn't as if Iris necessarily _stared_ at Lavender, Parvati, and Fay.

She tied the top half of her hair into a messy bun at the back of her head, letting the bottom half hang free, a favorite hairstyle of hers. Quick and easy, practical for all classes except potions, and she thought it looked rather nice. Finishing up, she met with Hermione by her bed. Hermione had the Marauder's map with her. Iris raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I was thinking..."

"Lord help us all."

"I was thinking that we should make a list," Hermione continued, ignoring Iris. "We didn't really know what would happen exactly in the last few years when it came to you and trouble, but we've got a rough idea now. We should make a list of things to do to prepare you for this year, and to be honest, the rest of the years as well, because we both know this won't be the last year where..."

"Shit happens?" Iris supplied.

"Yes, exactly," Hermione agreed. "So why not organize our thoughts, you know? The map can be used as a blank parchment as well, right? And you can save and hide whatever you write? We should do that so no one else can see it. I mean, I really don't think everything we write down will be…" Hermione laughed nervously.

"Lawful? Ethical? Honest? No, probably not. I've already come up with five different things we can put on the list that would make McGonagall have a stroke."

"Which is precisely why _I_ will be writing it."

"Fine by me," Iris said quickly.

" _Talk to McGonagall about dropping useless classes and taking useful ones,"_ Hermione murmured already writing on the map. "There! We can cross it off once we're done with it. Now let's think of more before we go talk to her."

* * *

"Well, that was utterly pointless," Iris said after they had finished a short list.

"It was not! We'll add to it as time goes on!" Hermione said defensively.

"No, I mean it's so simple — couldn't we have just remembered all this?" Iris asked.

"How many times have you said that only to completely forget it?"

"Whatever, let's get started on this. Time to have a chat with Minnie."

"She's going to kill you if you use that name, you know."

* * *

They made their way to McGonagall's office, chatting about random subjects, and Iris was not surprised to see people insulting her as she walked by. It got to the point where a hex was thrown. By the time they had made it to McGonagall's office, Iris was having trouble controlling her anger.

But why should she care anyway? This wasn't the first time the school turned on her, especially when it came to the Hufflepuffs, who were especially cruel in their insults. Again, she asked herself, _why should she care_? What did she have to gain by caring what others thought of her? Nothing. She took a deep breath and let it all out, the anger slowly ebbing away.

She knocked on McGonagall's door.

"Enter."

Iris and Hermione both entered her office and sat down in front of the desk.

"Potter, Granger, what may I do for you?" McGonagall said, not looking up from her papers.

"I'm dying, Professor," Iris said tiredly as she sat down.

"She is _not_ dying," Hermione said in exasperation. "Not exactly, at least."

"Oh?" McGonagall asked, still glaring at Iris.

"Yep," Iris said. "We're here for a few things actually — you probably won't be able to help us with everything and that's fine, but whatever you can help us with will greatly appreciated, Professor."

" _Oh?_ " McGonagall asked, obviously wanting elaboration.

"Do you have a vibrator under there or something?"

"Excuse me?" McGonagall asked, with a look of confusion on her face.

Iris heard skin slapping against skin, and looked over to see Hermione with her head in her hands, her neck blushing.

"Nothing. We really do need your help. I want to look into the Animagus transformation — for educational purposes, of course, I understand I'm not old enough to really —"

"Absolutely not," McGonagall interrupted. "You _are_ too young to start the process on your own, and I don't have the time to guide you — and don't think your ' _for educational purposes'_ tripe will make me help you."

"I mean it, Professor," Iris said, sounding genuinely indignant. "I'm not going to risk permanently disfiguring myself. There's no way I'll be able to do it even if I wanted to anyway. I think serious meditation is involved, right?" Iris asked, putting false confusion into her voice. The truth was that she and Sirius had already discussed the Animagus process over the summer and Sirius had suggested that she start on meditation as soon as possible. And so she did.

McGonagall stared at Iris.

"I won't lie to you," Iris lied, "I _do_ plan on _eventually_ becoming one, but I'd like to get started on the theory and all that before starting on the actual process."

"You're still too young, Potter. I started my process at the age of nineteen and only finished at twenty-one," McGonagall said.

"Fine, off to the owlery to owl Sirius then," Iris said as she stood up.

"Go ahead, helping you myself will still be incredibly foolish. Might as well let you do the foolishness without implicating myself. Good day Miss Potter, Miss Granger."

"Wait! We still have the other things to ask!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, right. I need to go to Diagon Alley, to get some things to prepare for the tournament and all. I'm forgetting something else…" Iris said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"You're unbelievable," Hermione said. "Professor, she wants to drop Divinations and take on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy instead."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow and looked at Iris again. "And you believe you can take on two extra classes, Miss Potter?"

"Well, it's really one extra class if I'm dropping Divinations, isn't it?" Iris said.

"If one was to actually _consider_ Divinations as a real class, yes," McGonagall said, making Hermione giggle. "Are you sure you want to take the classes? You'll be placed in third year classes, at least until you catch up, if you ever do that is. Not to say it isn't possible, of course. May I ask what brought on this change?"

"The classes will open up new doorways for me, and all that rubbish." McGonagall frowned at her. "So, new classes, Diagon Alley, and anything that might help me survive a hypothetical dangerous tournament?" Iris added in a hopeful tone.

"It's too late to pick up the classes now, term has already started," McGonagall said briskly. "You could still drop Divinations, however. I'll give you an offer, Miss Potter: if you can pass the fourth year Arithmancy and Ancient Runes exams at the end of this year, you can take the fifth year classes with Miss Granger. Miss Granger, would you —"

"Yes, Professor! I'd be happy to help her," Hermione said excitedly.

"Excellent then."

"Professor?" Iris said. "Why do you keep your glasses? Why does Professor Dumbledore for that matter? I got my eyes fixed over the summer —"

"A few reasons, Potter. One, how much did you pay to get it fixed? Three hundred and fifty galleons, was it? Some people don't think it's worth it, some people can't afford it. Two, it's a new procedure. Before a year ago, there was no fixing eyesight at all. I've worn them for years now and I am used to them. I also don't go looking for trouble enough to the point where my glasses become a distraction," she said, looking pointedly at Iris. "Three, people can charm their glasses to do certain things. Mine, for example, can see if something was recently Transfigured. It allows me to see who is trying to cheat in class. Professor Dumbledore's can see through certain objects."

"Is that why he knows who's outside his door?" Iris asked.

"Yes, it is. They can't look through thick walls, but doors are not a problem."

"Why not? Moody's eye can see through walls, can't it?"

"Not the walls of Hogwarts, no. Professor Moody's eye has its limit too, though I daresay it's more capable than Professor Dumbledore's glasses. _Now_ , if you wish to go to Diagon Alley, you need to ask the headmaster," McGonagall said, dismissing the two with a wave of her hand.

"Professor?" Iris asked in a tone that Hermione knew all too well. "About the whole Animagus thing..."

* * *

"I still can't believe you got her to actually give you the books on Animagi. What're they called again? Oh, let me see them!" Hermione pleaded as the two of them made their way towards Dumbledore's office.

"Later, Hermione," Iris said, waving her off. "You won't be able to get past the first chapter by the time we get to Dumbledore's office and then you'll be stuck in suspense. And the first one is called _History and Theory of Animagi_. Supposedly goes over the first Animagi in recorded history and then all the kinds of animals people have turned into over the centuries — the theory too, obviously. The second one, _Spirit Animals and What They Mean_ , goes over what your Animagus form means about you, what it symbolizes, stuff like that. I hope I'm a dragon."

"You're not going to be a dragon," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I remember reading about it before. There have only been five recorded magical Animagi in history. A bowtruckle. Then there was a thestral, but they were visible to everyone so that suggests that magical abilities don't transfer over. So even _if_ you became a dragon, you most likely wouldn't be able to fly or breathe fire. Then —"

"Why wouldn't I be able to fly?"

"Because the wings of a dragon are magical themselves. It's the same with hippogriffs, griffins, and plenty of other large animals with wings. The wings themselves wouldn't be enough to keep something like a dragon in the air, not realistically anyway. So magic helps out there."

"Hm. Had no clue. What were the rest?"

"Hmm, there was the Wampus cat one. They could use Legilimency in their form but it might be possible that any Legilimens can do this in any form..."

"What's Legili — whatever?"

" _Legilimency_. It's a form of the mind arts that lets you read minds."

"How do I do it?"

" _Iris_... You don't just do it. It takes years of practice. And I think you might need to learn Occlumency first, which is protecting your mind from intrusions, whether they be Legilimency probes or compulsion charms or the like. Occlumency and Legilimency can go hand in hand and they're both _very_ difficult to learn, or even learn about. I haven't even read that much about them."

"But I could learn it? Reading minds would be incredibly useful," Iris mused.

"Yes, I suppose so," Hermione said. "Though, it's like the legal part of Animagi too. You have to register yourself as a Legilimens. If you're not, and they find out you are one, you'll either get a heavy fine or go to Azkaban for a limited amount of time. I think you can choose. It won't do you any good in this tournament anyhow, it takes very long to master. But you _are_ right, things aren't likely to get peaceful for you. Learning both of those would be a smart idea. I should look up the Legilimens register. Oh, I'm _so_ excited!"

"Er — about what?" Iris asked, confused. "And you know I'm not going to register myself as either, should I actually accomplish it, right?"

Hermione ignored the second statement. "You're finally looking to learn as much as you can! I can't wait to see what _you_ can do."

"What do you mean what _I_ can do?"

"Oh, isn't it obvious? You produced a Patronus strong enough to send over a hundred dementors away! Don't blush, you did! Do you understand what kind of power that takes? Most adults can't even produce a Patronus to send off a single dementor. Most can't even produce one with no dementors around — and you! — you produced one to repel over a _hundred_ dementors. You have no idea how in awe I was when I saw you do it. What you did is unheard of!

"Why do you think you managed to shut the entire room up when you produced it for Fleur? Because I almost guarantee the only adults that could have produced one in that room were Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, and _maybe_ Crouch, seeing as he dealt with Azkaban matters. I doubt Professor Snape has any happy memories. If you could do what you did at the age of _thirteen_ , I can't wait to see what else you could do. I wouldn't be surprised if you become an Animagus before the year is up! Most likely not Occlumency or Legilimency though, that requires a lot of mind discipline and well…"

"Oi! Actually, I won't argue with you there. But I'm working on it. I think my meditation is coming along," Iris said.

"You're two months in, right?"

"Almost two months in. I'm getting close, I think."

"Already?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"What are the other magical Animagi?" Iris asked, not wanting to get into this argument.

"Right. How do we always get so off topic? There was also a Kneazle Animagus and the last one was a hippogriff. Apparently the wings of the hippogriff Animagus could absorb spells like a normal one could. It's all very confusing and since there hasn't been a magical Animagus in over a century, it's impossible to find out more on them. Not that I blame them necessarily, I mean, imagine how many people would want to experiment on you if you _were_ one. It would be incredibly annoying, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, I reckon. Speaking of hippogriffs, we're here," Iris said as they arrived before the statue of the hippogriff which lead into Dumbledore's office.

"That's a griffin."

"Whatever. Lemon drops, sherbert lemons, Acid Pops, Dumbledore has the best beard, toffees, Fizzing Whizbees, Iris Potter is the best student, Iris Potter is my favorite student —"

"Iris."

"Right, sorry. Uh, pear drop? Chocolate Frog? Sugar Quill? Damn it, _move_ , can't you? I need to see the headmaster," Iris exclaimed, kicking the gargoyle and achieving absolutely nothing but pain and an angrier Hermione.

"Liquorice Wand? I hate my job? I suck at my job? Ow, don't hit me Hermione. I haven't a clue though. Cockroach Cluster?"

The gargoyle looked down at Iris, rolled its eyes, and sprung to the side.

"Cockroach Cluster?" she said, amazed. "I was only joking…"

Iris walked through the gap and hurried up the stairs, an amused Hermione trailing at her back. Iris knocked once she was at the door, and after waiting a moment, entered on her own, much to the dismay of Hermione. The office was empty. Hermione, never having been in Dumbledore's office before, stopped her complaining once she entered the room.

It was a beautiful room; a very large (substantial enough to hold a meeting for nearly two dozen people) rectangular room, except at the far end where the room ended in a half circle, an exceptionally large window right in the center of it. Before the window lay Dumbledore's desk, Fawkes's perch standing tall to the right of it with the bird in question on top of it.

There were two staircases against the circular walls on either side of the desk that led to a small second story which looked to be connected to the balconies on the other walls, but Iris wasn't too sure; she had never been up there. There was one doorway on the left wall that most likely led to the second floor which could be seen through the balconies, the balconies of which went around all three straight walls. On the right wall was a large fireplace.

There were also many bookcases and display cases lining up the two walls, filled with ancient looking books, and, above it all, in the spaces the fireplace, bookcases, or balconies didn't cover, were the many portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses who were gazing down upon the two intruding students. There were many tables, desks, chairs, even couches around, most of them filled with odd trinkets, large and small vials which held different kinds of potions, parchment containing all sorts of symbols, maps, writing, and so many more objects that Iris did not know how to even begin describing.

All in all, Iris thought the place was very cozy looking. She went to greet Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, while Hermione looked around in awe.

"Hello Fawkes, it's good to see you again. Help slay any other basilisks recently?" Iris asked kindly to the phoenix, who she had always admired greatly. Fawkes let out a trill in what sounded like pleased agreement.

"Is that Fawkes?" asked Hermione from behind her. Hermione looked as if she was on overload from everything. "Wow! He's _beautiful_. This whole office is amazing, Iris! I know we shouldn't be here, but _oooh_ , I just want to examine everything here! There are so many books…"

"That they are, and remember Hermione, they're just that. _Books_. Not love."

Hermione swatted Iris's arm playfully and went to pet Fawkes while Iris made to go take a look at the Sword of Gryffindor. Before she could open the case, however, a glint of silvery light caught the corner of her eye. Looking over, she noticed a slightly open cabinet with a silver glow peaking from within the darkness. She glanced at Fawkes, who was staring back, as though daring her, then back at the silver glow, then back at Fawkes again, who Iris could swear had widened his eyes in mock indignation. She stared innocently at Fawkes as she strolled over to the cabinet, opened it, and pulled out the interesting basin, all while keeping her eyes on Fawkes.

Taking her eyes off him, she looked down to examine it. The basin was shallow and filled nearly to the brim with a silvery liquid. Or was it a gas? It looked more like a mix of liquid and gas, like a mass of clouds swirling around.

"Hey, Hermione, should I touch it?" Iris asked, pleasurably entertained by the strange substance.

"What? Touch what?" Hermione said, looking at what Iris was just about to touch. "Iris, no! What's the matter with you? We don't even know what it is, it could be —"

But what it could be Iris did not find out because she had taken Hermione's hand and shoved it into the bowl. Hermione's whole body was suddenly whisked away into the bowl. Iris stared for a moment, wondering if she had just killed her best friend or forever trapped her inside a strange bowl. Realizing that something lethal would not be so accessible in Dumbledore's office and that the portraits could tell Dumbledore if they weren't able to get out on their own, Iris shrugged and dipped a finger in.

She felt an almighty lurch and suddenly, she was falling... and then she felt her bottom smack lightly against a wooden bench. She took a look around. Apparently no one had noticed her fall from the window above — wait, no, there was no window. The ceiling was stone. She looked around once more and then she noticed she was sitting right next to Hermione, who was fixated on what Barty Crouch was saying — Barty Crouch? She looked again and saw that it was indeed Barty Crouch, and not only was _he_ also here, but Dumbledore and Moody were right in front of her.

"Er — Hermione?" Iris said uncertainly.

"Quiet, I'm listening!" Hermione whispered back.

"Where are we? Why is my foot going through Moody's back?"

"Stop trying to kick him, you can't. I'm fairly certain this is a memory. No one can see the two of us, we're just viewing a memory — of Dumbledore's, I imagine — it's quite neat. I've never read on anything that could do this before."

"A memory of what exactly?"

"I think a trial. This is obviously a courtroom."

And before Iris could question Hermione any further, the door burst open and a man flanked by two dementors walked in — or in the case of the two dementors, floated in. Iris's insides went cold. For a second, she had to assure herself that she was in only a memory, and that the coldness was from her fear, not from the dementors themselves. She felt a warm hand grip her wrist and she looked over to see Hermione giving her a warm smile. Iris took Hermione's hand in her own, surprising both Hermione and herself as she was never one to initiate contact like that, and turned back to the scene.

She noticed Hermione looking at their conjoined hands out of the corner of her eye and she wondered if she should let go. Maybe Hermione was uncomfortable now that she — most likely, at least — knew her sexuality. She glanced at Hermione, down at her hands, and began to loosen hers. Hermione held on though and scooted closer to Iris, wrapping her arm around hers. Iris's heart skipped a beat.

 _You're over her, Iris._ _You promised yourself you'd move on. Get over yourself._

"Iris, it's Karkaroff!" Hermione gasped. And sure enough, it was Karkaroff... in shackles. What came next was a lengthy interrogation in which Karkaroff proceeded to name off several Death Eaters. Then, to Iris's and Hermione's complete surprise, a trial for Ludo Bagman came, and Iris had a good time chuckling at Bagman's antics. The third and last trial shocked the both of them. Crouch's son was one of the four accused, and he had apparently taken part in torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom into...

"Those… sick... fucking... _bastards_ ," Iris whispered angrily. "They tortured Nev's parents into _insanity_?" Hermione had tears pouring down her cheek. "No wonder Neville always clams up whenever they're brought up. Christ, I feel terrible. I once asked him why his grandmother was the one who took care of him…"

"You couldn't have known, Iris," said Hermione softly.

"I know, but still. I should have realized the war was involved... Why hasn't he said anything?"

"Would you have? You hate the pity when it comes to your parents, maybe he does too. I imagine it's not a pleasant thing to talk about anyway," Hermione said.

It did make sense.

"Yeah, I suppose so… We should get out of here, we've been here far too long. How do we leave?" Iris asked.

"I'm not sure."

"You just _do_ ," came a voice from behind them. The two girls jumped and turned around. It was Dumbledore. Iris knew they weren't in trouble from the familiar expression on his face. It was the same one he had when she had come to McGonagall's office after rescuing Ginny from the Chamber. A somber expression because of the situation, yes, but a slight twinkle in his eyes to show they weren't in any trouble.

"Professor!" Hermione said in a panic, "We didn't — I mean, we — we didn't know, I — I — it was an accident!"

"Hermione, calm down. We're not in trouble," Iris said calmly.

"W-we're not?" Hermione stuttered nervously.

"Well, probably not. He'll tell us that we didn't mean any harm, that we were just curious but then say in some unnecessarily cryptic manner of how curiosity killed the cat, then proceed to tell us to get the hell out of his office," Iris said dryly.

"Iris! You don't know that —"

"On the contrary, Miss Granger, that is exactly what I was going to say — of course, except the very last part — but knowing you, my dear girl, it was only the last part that was the joke," Dumbledore said, smiling.

Hermione's jaw dropped and she looked back at Iris, who was smiling back smugly.

Once they were back in Dumbledore's office, he said, "Now, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"A few things, sir. Hermione and I were talking and we decided to actually prepare for the chaos that will undoubtedly be thrown my way this year. The last three years, it usually came out of nowhere. Well, for the most part. This year though, we know I'm going to nearly die if not outright die —"

"Please stop saying that, Iris," Hermione whimpered.

" _Sooo_ …"

"You wish to go to Diagon Alley," Dumbledore finished for her.

Iris looked up at him, her mouth still open. "How do you do that?"

Dumbledore ignored her question. "And you'd like more on the Animagus process?"

Iris stared for a moment. "We are interested in the Animagus process, purely for educational purposes of course. We're far too young to actually — you know what, bugger it — we want to become Animagi," Iris said to the shock of Hermione, the amusement of Dumbledore, and the even greater shock of Hermione once she realized Dumbledore didn't have a care in the world.

"Very well, I could use a break from all this political drama," Dumbledore said. "I'm glad you mentioned Animagi. You see, I was the one who held onto Sirius's belongings when he went to Azkaban. I was hoping to find something to make it easier to believe he had really turned your parents over. Of course, I found nothing. But since Sirius did confess to the murders —"

"Still can't believe he did that," muttered Iris irritably.

"It was understandable. He believed his actions led to their deaths, and after losing two of his best friends and seeing the betrayal of another, it's quite understandable that his mind was not in the right state. I believed he had a trial, so I believed he was guilty. I was so busy during the war, and especially right after, that it was not uncommon for me to not attend every trial."

"Sir?" Iris asked, wondering where Dumbledore was going with this.

"My apologies. I have Sirius's and your father's old journal that contained the process to become an Animagus," Dumbledore said. "They shared it, I believe. They added their own notes as well. I've looked over it and it's all correct, so it should help you. I must warn you now, though, the Animagus process is not easy and it can be dangerous. Come see me or McGonagall if you two have any problems — or three, if Mr. Weasley will be involved."

Iris was too dumbstruck to do anything. She had not expected him to be this carefree about this particular branch of magic.

"You're okay with this, sir?" Hermione asked.

"You'll find out anyway," Dumbledore said, giving a light shrug. "After three years, I've come to expect you three to do dangerous things regardless of what you're told. Speaking of, let me make three portkeys for you. One for Mr. Weasley should he also participate. Sirius has one of these."

"I thought Portkeys and Apparition wouldn't work within Hogwarts and the grounds?" Iris asked, thinking of all the times Hermione had mentioned it.

"Oh, they don't, _usually_. But being headmaster has its perks." Dumbledore smiled. "Should you encounter danger wherever, simply use the portkey. You must have your skin touching it and the activation phrase will be _Phoenix Wings_. Push a little magic into it too, of course. It'll bring you to this office."

As Dumbledore was talking, he went to fetch the journal, which excited Iris greatly. She didn't have anything her father had written in and the idea of having the chance to learn from her own father thrilled her. Before she had a chance to open the journal, Dumbledore had given them three portkeys, which were necklaces — where the ends of the chains connected to a silver phoenix, or more specifically, the tips of the phoenix's wings.

And then, they were off. After he travelled with them through the Floo, Dumbledore told Iris and Hermione to go visit whatever shops they'd like, as long as they stayed in Diagon Alley, since he'd have someone pick them up. Iris had a feeling who it would be. McGonagall had said she was busy...

They visited Gringotts to withdraw money from Iris's vault, and then went to Ollivander's shop.

"Mr. Ollivander?" Iris called out in the dark of his building. She was fairly certain he was going to pop out from the shadows and start whispering the word 'curious' repeatedly, but she was wrong. He showed up in the doorway that leads to the back of the store.

"Ah, Miss Potter! Holly, eleven inches, and phoenix feather. Good to see you. And Miss Granger! Ten and three quarters inch long, vine wood, and a dragon heartstring core. Nice to see you as well. I hope your wands are suiting you fine, or are you here to buy accessories perhaps? A wand holster to get your wand in your hand with a simple flick of your wrist — or to give your wand a new look, hmm?"

"No, I'm really just here for wand holsters. Figured a quick draw would be useful for the tournament. I'd like three of 'em."

"Iris —" Hermione started.

"Shut up, Hermione. I'll stun you."

Hermione sighed knowing Iris would have no problem actually stunning her, even if they were outside of school.

"Very well, very well," Ollivander said. "Each wand holster will be fifteen galleons."

"Deal!" Iris said happily without hesitation or a thought as to if Ollivander was pushing his luck.

"Iris, I can't —" Hermione tried again.

"Shush, Hermione, think of it as an early Christmas present."

"You — you already said the omnioculars were an early Christmas present! And you'll end up buying me a present anyway!" Hermione whispered furiously.

"Hermione, my _trust fund_ is enough to make me not have to work a day in my life. When I become legal, three things will happen. One, I'll be able to threaten you with magic without the worry of being expelled. Two, I imagine a thousand marriage contracts are going to come pouring in — obviously they'll all be ignored — and three, I'll gain access to my main vault and have enough money to buy Hogwarts. At least that's what Hagrid told me. Now, shut up before I cast a Silencing Charm on you and get myself expelled for underage magic use."

Again, knowing Iris would probably do it, Hermione kept her mouth shut.

"Oh, can I get myself a spare wand? Y'know, just in case?" she asked Ollivander.

"No no, unfortunately _not_. The Ministry only allows one wand per person, for the obvious reasons, _I suppose._ " Ollivander said, not sounding very happy about it.

"More like they just want more control and don't want anyone having a spare wand should they decide to toss someone into Azkaban without a trial," Iris said, her tone laced with bitterness. She really had no pleasant things to say about the Ministry. They had tossed Hagrid into Azkaban with hardly any evidence whatsoever, just so they could appear to ' _be doing something_ ,' and they had put Sirius into the same prison for over a decade. She knew Sirius would never really be the same person he was before Azkaban, and while she had only gotten to know Sirius for not even five months and only through letters, she still saw him as an uncle of sorts. He didn't seem like a father figure type to her.

She also knew she'd have to write him a letter soon to tell him about the tournament, but she wished she didn't have to. He came back into the country because her scar itched, she expected he would barge in through the front doors of Hogwarts once he found out she was thrown into a tournament that's already killed far too many people in the past.

"That'll be a total of forty-five galleons, dear," Ollivander said.

Iris paid the price, which was the equivalent of around a nine-hundred pounds. Iris couldn't help but calculate the equivalent every time she made a purchase in the wizarding world. She had grown up in the muggle world after all, and wasn't quite used to the monetary system of wizards and witches. It didn't help that money meant nothing for her in the wizarding world. She always had to quickly calculate the equivalent in pounds to see just how much she was spending. She had begun doing so in her first year, and had asked around to see if the prices were supposed to be so high.

And apparently they were. The wizarding world was bloody expensive. Then again, the items she had just bought would not only most likely last her entire life, as most magical items such as these do, but also had the chance of saving her life. Besides, she was only able to spend thousands in a day because she was apparently filthy rich. Not something Iris really cared about, but she wasn't going to complain about it.

After Iris paid for the holsters and left the shop, the two girls left Ollivander's shop and visited Flourish and Blotts.

Twenty minutes later, they left, Hermione carrying several new books in her bag, and ran right into none other than Snape.

"There you two are," he said angrily. "I've been looking for the two of you for the last five minutes. Be silent, Potter," he said after she opened her mouth to speak. "I've been _tasked_ ," he sneered, "with the lovely job of taking you two back to Hogwarts. Hurry now."

"Hey, Hermione?" Iris whispered as they walked their way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

" _Yes_ , _Iris_?" Hermione answered irritably.

"What are you angry at me for? You're the one who wanted to go to Flourish and Blotts!"

" _I_ wasn't the one who spent ten minutes trading insults with a goblin," Hermione snapped at her. "We could have had plenty of time —"

"Oh, relax, we're not in trouble," Iris said. "Snape would have been angry even if he found us the second he walked into Diagon Alley. He's just sexually frustrated."

Hermione stopped, and looked at Iris seriously. "Iris, has he really? I know you've joked about it before, but has he —"

"No, of course not. You kidding? He'd probably consider a disfigurement from the tournament an _improvement_ to my looks. It's not what I meant anyway. Oh, and if Ron asks, Ollivander had a sale. Buy two, get one free. You know how he gets about these things, more red-faced than Snape's knees after he's done slobbering all over —"

"Iris!" Hermione whispered, a panicked look on her face as she glanced at Snape to see if he overheard.

"Oh, he definitely heard," Iris said cheerfully. "Speaking of colors, his face is probably completely purple from anger. But it's not like he's going to start screaming at me in the middle of Diagon Alley. Besides, it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"What makes sense?" Hermione said warily.

"Why he still has his job. I mean he has to be doing _something_ to keep his job despite the fact he's a terrible teacher, and the only thing that makes sense is —"

"Potter, if you finish that sentence, crowd or not, I will _murder you_ ," Snape seethed in a quiet voice, knowing he couldn't give Iris a detention or take away points because they weren't at Hogwarts. His barely constrained anger showing, he continued walking. Unbeknownst to Iris, all Hermione could think about as they entered the Leaky Cauldron, took the Floo back to Hogwarts, and went to lunch was how in the world Iris hadn't already been brutally murdered.

* * *

"There you two are!"

Iris and Hermione turned to look at Ron as he came down a set of stairs.

"I've been looking all over for you two! Where in the bloody hell have you been?" he asked agitatedly.

"Language —"

"Hermione, shut it. Do you ever get sick of saying that over and over?" Not waiting for an answer, Iris continued: "We were at a lot of places, Ron. First, McGonagall's office so I could ask about dropping Divinations and picking up the other two classes we talked about last night —"

"Oh, you're dropping Divinations, huh?" Ron said, trying to sound casual.

"Nah," Iris said. "McGonagall gave me the choice but I'll stick with you til the end of the year. I've got to pass the fourth year exams for both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes before the school year ends though if I want to join fifth year classes on those subjects. I know, I know, but hey, I don't have to take any other exams so it's not like it'll be a big deal. I know you'd rather me stick with Divinations and as tempting the easy O sounds, it's not like it'll be much good for anything, nor can it help me create spells. And quite frankly, if I spend more than one more year being told I'm going to die, I'm going to prove self-fulfilling prophecies exist and jump out the window."

Iris took a deep breath. How in the world did Hermione say more than twice that without breathing?

To Iris's relief, Ron looked more than a little happy at Iris's words. He suddenly gave Iris a brief hug, something they had never really done before. Half hugs sure, but full on Hermione-esque hugs? Never. Iris thought it was very odd behavior. Iris hugged back awkwardly and raised her eyebrows at a very bewildered looking Hermione. After a few seconds, Ron let go — his face completely red.

"Er — sorry. I just — you know — I — I really appreciate that. Divinations would be incredibly dull without you, you know," he stammered out.

"Yeah, sure, no problem. But I am still dropping it next year. And whatever time I have in there where I'm not goofing off, I'll probably be studying," Iris replied.

"So, where else did you two go?"

"Diagon Alley. McGonagall also gave us two books on Animagi, not how to actually become them but some interesting stuff I suppose, and told us to see Dumbledore to see if we could to Diagon Alley. You were asleep so we went on our own. Ollivander had a sale for some stuff. Buy two, get one free for wand holsters. So, here's a wand holster." She pulled out a wand holster and gave it to a surprised but pleased (to Iris's relief) Ron.

"Cool! Wait, does this mean I can flick my wrist and the wand flies out? You got one of these for _free_?"

"Yep," Iris said, receiving an all too familiar look from Hermione.

Iris also gave Ron the portkey and told him why she had been given them. Ron was nearly jumping up and down in excitement at the prospect of becoming an Animagus.

"Ron, you know that it took Sirius, my dad, and McGonagall all _two_ _years_ to do it, right? I'm just saying, it'll take a long time, require a lot of work, and definitely won't be easy. None of us might even able to do it at our age. But I have my dad's old journal on becoming an Animagus — Sirius wrote in it as well — so it should be a bit easier," she said.

"You know," Hermione said, "McGonagall became an Animagus after two years with the tutelage of Dumbledore so —"

"For the love of god, Hermione."

"He shouldn't get his hopes up, none of us should!"

"Whatever, I'm going to be a dragon."

They made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch, and after, went to send Sirius a latter.

 _Dear Snuffles,_

 _I don't know if you've heard, but I've been entered as the fourth champion in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Yes, we were both correct. No, I didn't enter myself. Obviously. Moody reckons someone wants to do me in. It's also a magically binding contract so I've got to compete. We should have tossed in Voldemort's name into the Goblet, that would have solved a future headache._

 _I've no idea what the five tasks are besides the fact that the first is on the 24th of November. I don't know what it is._

 _Viktor Krum is the Durmstrang Champion, no surprise there. Fleur Delacour is the Beau-whateverthefuck's Champion and she's a bitch. Cassius Warrington is the other Hogwarts Champion. He's in Slytherin. Most of the school was surprised that a Slytherin was picked, but I think most people (at least outside Gryffindor, where the Slytherin hate runs wild — see Ron) are okay with him or at least don't hate him. He's a prefect and apparently a fair one. I saw no sneer on him when he looked at me, so that's something I suppose._

 _Speaking of sneers, Snape is a git as always. I'm getting so sick of him. His hate runs so deep for me that he actually believes I put my name in. As if! His loathing blinded him to the point of thinking I was smart enough to outsmart Dumbledore and powerful enough to cast a Confundus Charm on an ancient artifact._

 _Oh, and Dumbledore gave me the journal you and my dad wrote in, the one to become an Animagus. Took me on a trip too, got myself a wand holster (figured a quick draw would be useful for the future). Hermione says I can't become a dragon but I'll show her. And don't you dare dash my hopes! That's all I've got to say, I think. I wish there was an easier way for us to talk right now. Get those mirrors soon._

 _Or else,_

 _Iris Vivienne, Daughter of Prongs_

After the owl had left to find Sirius, they went outside to sit by their favorite tree, a large oak next to the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake. The hanging leaves blocked them from the view of those up the hill or in the castle. All three sat down. Ron and Iris closed their eyes as they enjoyed the breeze flowing around them, and Hermione opened a book to read.

"What else do we have today?" Iris asked.

"Defense Against The Dark Arts. The twins said Moody was giving a special lesson today. The Unforgivables apparently — he somehow got permission from Dumbledore to show us them," Ron said.

"A special lesson? Er — you don't think the whole yearly defense-teacher-tries-to-kill-me thing is going to happen really early this time around?" Iris asked, opening her eyes.

"Moody is an Auror, he's not going to try and kill you," said Hermione.

"I wouldn't be too sure, Hermione. You know what the three Unforgivables are, right?" Ron asked.

"Yes, of course —"

"Uh — I don't. No idea what you're talking about actually," said Iris.

"Oh, it really wouldn't hurt to open up a book every once in awhile. The three Unforgivables are called that because if you use any of them, you go straight to Azkaban. And you don't come out." Iris winced, remembering what Sirius described the place to be in his letters. "So I'd be really surprised if Moody actually uses them. Then again, it's only Azkaban if you use them on another human. There's the Imperius, which gives you total control over someone — you can make them do anything you want, so long as your will is stronger than theirs. There's the Cruciatus, the — or perhaps _a_ torture curse. It's supposed to make you feel the worst possible pain there is to feel. And then… the Avada Kedavra," Hermione finished cautiously.

"The Avada Kedavra? Are you serious?" Iris asked laughing. The other two gave her incredulous looks. "There's a dangerous spell that sounds like ' _abra_ _kadabra_?'"

"Iris… The Avada Kedavra is the Killing Curse."

Iris stopped laughing immediately and gave Hermione a sharp look.

"Oh."

Hermione and Ron stayed quiet because they understood — somewhat. What they did not know however was that ever since Pettigrew had escaped, Iris had been having more frequent nightmares — sometimes nightly. A woman pleading, a green flash, and insane cackling. She had the nightmares before, but now, the dreams were always so _vivid_. She was usually a bit more thick-skinned when it came to nightmares and her past. She understood why Ginny went pale every time the Chamber of Secrets or Tom Riddle were mentioned, but Iris never did and if anything, she had more reason to. She had not been possessed by Tom, no, but she had faced him — two times even; she did not count the time when she was a baby.

The last time, she had faced a sixteen year old memory version of him after slaying a bloody _basilisk_ that had injected its venom into her. She had never felt the Cruciatus but she would not have been surprised if it was similar to the pain of the basilisk venom coursing through her veins. It felt as though the venom was acid, dissolving her insides. Her skin had even felt as though it was on fire.

And then there was first year and Quirrell. Quirrell, under the orders of Voldemort, had tossed her around for a good five minutes. She hit the walls, the pillars, the ground, even the Mirror of Erised. Iris had barely been able to defend herself at the end with all the broken bones. Yet, despite all this, she didn't pale or flinch at the mention of Voldemort. It wasn't because she hid the fear or pain. It just didn't bother her to the point where she'd be tempted to have a visible reaction.

Her mother dying however… That was a different story. That was somebody _else_ dying, somebody _else_ getting hurt. For all the traumatic events she had gone through, it was usually just her getting hurt or nearly killed. She hated even thinking about the Killing Curse, for the reason of how it killed her father, her mother, and countless more before them. Realizing she had a stony face, she snapped out of her thoughts. She looked to Hermione, then Ron — and for a second, the lighting had made him out to look like a younger Charlie —

"Charlie!" she exclaimed, looking at Ron.

"Not this again," Ron groaned. "We've been over this before, Iris. I'm _Ron_."

"No, you prat. Charlie said he'd see us soon remember! It was a hint as to what was going on. Why in the world would Charlie come to Hogwarts unless it was for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and..." Iris trailed off, the full blast of her revelation finally hitting her. "Unless… _dragons_. They're going to include _dragons_ ," she whispered in disbelief. Ron looked at her quizzically and Hermione's jaw had dropped.

"Dragons? They'd be nutters to make you go up against a dragon, Iris! You're fourteen!" Ron said incredulously.

"But the others aren't. No fourteen year old was supposed to be in this thrice-be-damned tournament! Oh god, dragons," Iris said, feeling suddenly very sick. She had read enough to know just what they were capable of. " _Dragons_. Dragons?! What the — Dragons! Charlie would have no other reason to — DRAGONS?!" Iris stood up with a look of complete disbelief and a hint of anger. Ron was staring at the ground, his face pale. Hermione began shaking her head vigorously.

"We don't — well, okay. You're probably onto something, but before you freak out, you could still be wrong. I'm not saying you are, but we don't know yet. And it might not even be the first task, it might be the very last —"

"He said very soon, Hermione! He said he'd see us next summer too, ' _very_ _soon, sooner than you'd think_ ' doesn't mean at the end of the year. The task is supposed to test courage and — and — I'm going to die," she finished, sounding defeated, her shoulders slumping.

"You are _not_ going to die! Look, we'll get you trained. Shields to stop dragonfire and other dangerous things too — okay? — so you'd be prepared either way. We'll talk to the twins soon to know if they've created anything to help us figure out what you're facing. There's no point in practicing or learning any new spells _now_ , especially with what Moody has been making us do. I mean, goodness, our first two years worth of Defense in two months! I understand our first two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers haven't been the best, but we haven't even had time to visit Hagrid outside of Care of Magical Creatures. But after today, for sure.

"That reminds me, let's see your dad's journal, Iris. We don't know if dragons are really involved, and if you become a bird Animagus — well, not like you could become one before the end of the year, much less by November. But get it out, I've been very curious about what the steps would be," Hermione said, in a clear attempt to distract Iris. Nodding, Iris took out her dad's journal and Hermione and Ron gathered around her as she opened it.

* * *

 _The Animagus Process - Notes by Prongs and Padfoot_

 _Below are the steps to become an Animagus. We definitely did NOT steal this information from Minnie. We leave these notes to you, whether it be the one I have yet to win over (and if you're reading this, ha! I told you!) or my future kids. We could include more information than we have already, but that would most likely mean you'd try this all on your own, so nope. Ask us for help. If you're neither my destined one (you know who you are) nor my kids or we haven't given you permission to read this, bugger off._

 _\- Prongs_

 _With help taken from McGonagall's holy book and our own personal notes from experience, the steps to become an Animagus. Be warned, the process is long, tedious, stressful, and likely to kill you._

 _\- Padfoot_

 _It won't likely kill you, probably. But it is dangerous! And if you do it wrong, you may be permanently half-animal. Or simply disfigured. Or yeah, dead. If you think you've screwed up big, grab a teacher or one of us, even if it'll get you in trouble. Now, onto the steps! Since I have the better handwriting, I'll do the honors! READ ALL STEPS FIRST. Study the theory. Read the steps until you bloody memorized every single word._

 _\- Prongs_

 _1) Take the "Animagus Unlocking" potion to start the process. There is no time limit as to when to start the next step. The potion and how to brew it can be found in a copy of "Advanced Potion-Making" by Libatius Borage. Once you brew it, drink it, and wait at least 24 hours._

 _2) Take a "Essence of Nature" potion or otherwise known as the "Sensitivity of Mother Earth" potion. This can also be found in the same potions textbook by Borage. Brew it, drink it. It will let you become closer to "Mother Nature/Earth" for lack of a better way to phrase it. Once you drink it, you will become more in tune with nature. This will last 24 hours. Make a ton of these at once as you'll need them, especially if it's not just you doing it. We're talking about at least a dozen for just one person._

 _3) Meditate. That's right, it's time to meditate. This is one of those steps that has no real clear guide. Take the Essence of Nature potion then meditate in a place of nature, so outside. Find a secluded place to do so. There's not an easy way to describe exactly what you're looking for. Basically, you want to meditate (eyes closed of course) on the potion until you feel… it?_ _You want to enter a sort of trance. You'll just know. You'll hear every single blade of grass swaying from the wind which you feel brush up against every single hair on your body. Moony suggests the "Potion of Heightened Sensitivity" which I suppose could work to let you get a feel for the sensation. Same potions book. You'll want to meditate and meditate until you can reach that sense of heightened sensitivity without any potions whatsoever, including the Essence of Nature one. This will take a long time. Took us months._

 _4) Once you can enter that trance of heightened sensitivity, you'll need to "expand your feel." Stay in the trance but don't focus on the feel of the wind or the sound of the grass. Instead, reach deep down inside you and feel for something pulling at you. It'll feel as if something is pulling on your very being. This is the beacon attempting to guide you, signal you, whatever. Once you feel this beacon pulling at you, practically asking you to come find it, drink another Essence of Nature potion. Pulling it out and drinking it will most likely ruin your trance however, so it would be best to put the potion in your mouth before you enter your trance but not swallow. Once you sense the pull at your very being, the calling of the beacon, swallow the potion. You'll be able to snap out of the trance but still sense the beacon from wherever it is. You'll have 24 hours to find the beacon. My beacon as well as Padfoot's was a bit in the Forbidden Forest._

 _5) Drink another Essence of Nature potion and go looking for your beacon. It won't be difficult to feel what direction it's at. Bring a Neutralizing Potion with you._

 _6) Find the beacon. You'll know when you reach it. You'll just know. The feeling will be sudden and obvious. You'll feel a need to meditate and enter your trance when you're in the beacon's sphere of influence._

 _7) Meditate at the beacon site for a full 24 hours. You can not use a potion to enter your trance, so drink the Neutralizing Potion and wait until the effects of the Essence of Nature potion are gone. The trance will feel different at the beacon. You must meditate for at least 24 hours! You can not be interrupted during these 24 hours. In this trance, you won't feel outside forces unless they're obvious; such as your wand vibrating if you've set a timer on it, somebody poking you, being mauled to death by a bear, etc. Instead, you'll do a little soul and mind searching. Don't resist! Let the memories wash over you, no matter how bad they are. Let yourself relive all the memories that pop up no matter what. Let whatever you feel inside yourself, your soul, do what it wants. This part is important because it's basically nature going through your memories and deciding what kind of form would fit your personality._

 _8) Once the 24 hours are up, put a mandrake leaf in your mouth. It doesn't have to be right after. You can wait until whenever to do this step. You're going to keep it in your mouth for a full month. A full lunar cycle, to be precise. So find out what stage the moon is at when you first put your leaf in your mouth. Keep it in your mouth until that same stage passes the next month. Take it out on the same day of the next month, the same stage in the lunar cycle. Do not take it before, do not take it out after. Not following these rules will mean you have to start the month over. A Sticking Charm will work._

 _9) Take it out and place it along with your saliva in a vial. Place a single hair of you inside as well. Bottle the vial up so nothing else can get in. Place the vial in a place where moonlight can reach it (not through windows). I'm talking about on a roof or something. Sure, some nights you won't get any moonlight thanks to the clouds but it doesn't matter. You'll keep this vial here for another full lunar cycle. You'll have to repeat the incantation "Amato Animo Animato Animagus" once between the hours of midnight and noon, and once between the hours of noon and midnight. That means twice a day, once in the morning and once at night, for the full lunar cycle. Make sure to point your wand at yourself every time you do it. You'll know you did it right if a feeling washes over you. If you miss one day, or forget, you'll have to go back to step 7 . On the same lunar stage after a month, grab the vial and move onto the next step._

 _10) Bury the vial in dirt. On the same day it's time to take the vial out of the spot where it gets moonlight, bury the vial completely in dirt. Completely. It should be surrounded by dirt by all sides. Obviously, mark the place you've buried it. Then you must wait until a thunderstorm comes, until rain and thunder are both there. The vial must get wet from the rain. Once it has rained and you've heard thunder, you must venture out into the storm and retrieve the vial. Should you fail to retrieve it, you need not start over, but only wait until the next thunderstorm comes._

 _11) Once retrieved, put the vial over a hot fire for a good hour. Let the insides melt. The contents should turn into a potion the color of your eyes. Once it's a liquid, drink it while it's warm. You can drink it while it's burning hot if you'd like, but Padfoot says he wouldn't recommend it. If it's cool or cold, put it under the fire until it's warm again._

 _12) Go back into meditation and into a trance, naked_ _. You can't have anything on you on your first transformation. Well, you could, but it's not smart. Do not fight the inner animal, it will come out no matter what. How violently depends on your resistance. You will still have your own mind, don't worry._

 _After your first transformation, you can have stuff on you. Your clothes, jewelry, even your wand, but not everything. Magically enhanced trunks which have rooms any large than, let's say_ _a dorm room, will cause problems when you transform. Everything in said room will fly all over the place and you'll have a big mess on your hands. Brooms and other large objects you're holding won't transform with you. Only the stuff that can hang onto your body without any assistance from you will transform with you._

 _Solemnly swearing we're up to no good,_

 _From Prongs and Padfoot._


	3. Ophidian Encounters

**Author's Notes:**

Thank you all for your reviews, suggestions, and constructive criticism. Don't think I don't greatly appreciate every review.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **Ophidian Encounters**

 **1994, November 1, Hogwarts Grounds**

Once Iris had read all the steps to become an Animagus, she glanced up at Hermione.

"So how hard is this going to be, Hermione? I've already got the meditation started, but what about the rest?" she asked. It certainly didn't seem _that_ difficult to her. Sure, she'd have trouble with the potions but the rest? Was there really enough difficulty lying beneath it all that it took somebody like McGonagall two years even with the help of Dumbledore? The potions could be difficult to brew, keeping a mandrake leaf in one's mouth for a month would be annoying, and meditating for a full twenty-four hours would definitely be difficult, but the rest?

"I… I don't know," Hermione said, her brows furrowed. "The potions are doable — after all, we used polyjuice in our second year. The storm bit will just be mostly luck. The mandrake leaf part might be a pain, but it's certainly not something that would take two years to finally do. I imagine the meditation is the hardest part — that's most likely what takes people months or years to finally master."

Iris wasn't too concerned about the meditation. She had begun to meditate long ago, long before Sirius had suggested it over the summer. Whenever Vernon would toss her in her cupboard, she'd try to do it; it would help to pass the time she spent in there. She was already somewhat familiar with what her father had written about feeling in touch with nature. She would often head to the forest near the Dursley's home and find a large tree she could climb. She'd sit upon a high branch, close her eyes, and just breathe deeply. All the stress would bleed out with every deep breath taken. The intricacies of daily life would fade away and something _primal_ would take over. The tension in her shoulders released, the strain on her mind lessened, and Iris would come out of the forest feeling reinvigorated.

"I'm not too worried, I used to meditate after the Dursleys became too much. I'm sure I'll get that part down," Iris said throwing her hands behind her head and resting back against the trunk of the tree.

"What did it do? Meditating, I mean," asked Ron.

"I dunno, release stress I suppose. Used to do it nearly daily."

"Just how stressed did you get with your relatives?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Enough to meditate or whatever daily," Iris said dismissively. Before Hermione could open her mouth to keep questioning her on the topic, she got up and said, "Come on, we've got Defense. Let's go see if I survive a second Killing Curse to the face."

"That's not funny. That's not funny at all, Iris."

"Okay, sheesh."

* * *

 **Hogwarts Halls**

Iris and Hermione had gone to use the restroom while Ron waited in the corridor. When the two were done and were walking out, Iris groaned; she had heard a very familiar drawling voice. She turned the corner and, sure enough, Malfoy and Ron were going at it.

"They didn't even get his name right, weasel. _Arnold_ Weasley," Malfoy drawled, "It's almost as if he's a complete nonentity, an utter nobody, eh?" And before Ron could respond, Malfoy added, "And your _mother_ — well, I suppose I shouldn't insult her — if I do, she might eat me."

Ron's face was so red and his fists were so clenched, Iris thought he might explode, but still, Malfoy was not finished, as he continued with: "Oh, don't worry weasel, I'm sure your mother wouldn't be offended by that… But if she would be, I'd just tell her to _lighten up_." Malfoy and the Slytherins surrounding him all burst out into laughter. Ron's arm caught her eye. He had thrown his arm back, clearly ready to scramble what was left of Malfoy's brains, but before he could swing, Iris grabbed his wrist. Ron looked at her with a look of betrayal, but then he caught the look in her eyes.

"Were you born a cunt, Malfoy, or is something you have to recommit yourself to every morning?" Iris asked with a raised eyebrow. "And you're one to talk about mothers; that expression yours had at the World Cup, like she had shit under her nose? Does she always look like that or was it because she had you with her?"

Malfoy went pink in the face. "Don't you —"

"I imagine it was the latter," Iris said. "I mean, most women don't want to be seen in public with their walking talking mistakes, do they? Although..." she said slowly, "considering she married a man who's worth nothing without his gold, it really serves her right to have such a worthless disappointment as a son, doesn't it?"

The majority of the people in the hall had gone silent, perhaps out of shock at the vulgarity or out of anger, except for the snickers of the few Gryffindors.

His face completely red, Malfoy stammered, "I — I am _not_ a disappointment, I live up to my father's name!"

"Oh please, you'll never be the man your mother is, much less your father," Iris said, and Ron began howling with laughter behind her along with the everybody else who wasn't a Slytherin. Malfoy kept opening his mouth to retort but nothing came out, so Millicent Bulstrode took a step forward and spoke up.

"You don't know what —" Millicent began, but she stuttered. "You don't even have parents!"

Everybody instantly quieted down, looking apprehensive as to what Iris would do next.

Not missing a beat, Iris said, dismissively, "And you've got small tits for a fat girl. Want to keep stating obvious facts?"

The jaws of the Slytherin girls dropped, and though Iris would have felt bad about shaming a person's body, the jab at her own parents dismissed the idea of feeling guilty. Millicent suddenly charged at Iris headfirst, and caught completely surprised by the ridiculous attack, Iris was only able to get out of the way by the help of Ron pulling her. Millicent fell to the ground to more laughter from anyone that wasn't a Slytherin.

"Holy shit, how appropriate. You even fight like a cow," Iris said in mock amazement. She heard Hermione hiss her name behind her, but she didn't respond.

Both Millicent and Malfoy had pulled out their wands and aimed them directly at Iris.

Iris smiled. She had just seen Moody turn the corner, and Moody saw her. "You know, if you two cursed each other, I reckon you'd both be a bit more attractive," Iris taunted and then turned to walk away. She heard the murmur she had been expecting and leaned her upper body to the side, just barely dodging the spell that had flown past her. Before she even could turn around, she heard a yell, a whimper, more yells, and then laughter.

Moody had turned Malfoy into a ferret.

"C'mon you lot, into the classroom for those who have Defense and the rest of you, run along," Moody grunted as he brought the ferret into the classroom, winking at Iris as he did so. He leaned down and whispered near her ear, "Used to do this with Aurors in training. Always worked."

Iris was beyond satisfied. Malfoy had been on the losing side many times before, yes, but he was never completely humiliated like this.

" _Iris_ ," Hermione whispered furiously besides her as they waited at the back of the crowd of people entering the classroom. "Don't you think you went a little too far there?"

"No," Iris said flatly. "Malfoy has been going too far for years now — yes, I know you're talking about Bulstrode, but her too. She's always laughed along with Malfoy. The parent jab was too far."

"Give it a rest Hermione," said Ron happily, his eyes not leaving the ferret. "It was brilliant. You heard what they were saying. You hit him in every spot that hurts, Iris!" he said laughing. "That part about his mother marrying his father, you insulted all three of the Malfoy's in one sentence. Brilliant!" Ron began laughing harder again as he tried to repeat everything again, and Hermione spent the entire time scowling heavily.

"Oh relax, Hermione," said Iris. "You know I'm not that cruel normally, I just wanted to put them in their place."

"You didn't have to use such vulgar language," Hermione muttered under her breath as she sat down in a chair next to Ron.

"Admit it, you're not really mad."

"You stooped down to their level, Iris," Hermione said, frowning. "Whether she deserved it or not doesn't matter."

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" somebody roared — the entire class jumped — "You're dead," Moody said simply, as though it was a normal and daily thing to be dead. "Constant. Vigilance. None of you were prepared. If I was a dark wizard, I could have easily killed half of this classroom. You've _got_ to be ready. Now, today's lesson is special. Given how fast news spreads around here, I'd guess most of you already know. Put away your books, your wands, everything — you won't need them. Today is all _practical_ lesson," Moody said, and his magical eye started spinning in circles, madly.

"Now, I'm not supposed to show you illegal curses until two years from now, but Dumbledore and I have agreed that the Ministry can stuff it. How can you defend yourself against something you've never seen, eh? A curse is coming straight at you but you don't know what it is — how do you know if you should shield, dodge, or take the hit?" Moody said.

Moody lectured for a bit, but it was all material Iris already knew, and she lost herself in her own mind.

"Now!" Moody bellowed, and Iris jumped in her seat. "If you don't know what spell is being thrown your way, you're dead. _You've got to know_. Some curses go straight through shields, some shatter them, send you flying, some aren't worth the energy to shield or dodge, some are. You have _got_ to know, and you need to put that away while I'm talking to you, Miss Brown!" Moody barked as he was walking to the front of the class. Lavender jumped and blushed. Iris couldn't help but think of how cool it would be to see out the back of her head. "That's why today, we'll be going over the Unforgivable curses. The Killing Curse, the Cruciatus and the Imperius. I will be giving you a demonstration on the first two with two spiders, and the third, the Imperius, will be used on you lot!"

"Professor, isn't it illegal?" Hermione asked.

"He probably got permission," Iris said, resting her head back as she slumped in her chair.

"Sure is, Miss Granger, and Miss Potter is correct. Both Dumbledore and I agree that you've got to know what you're going up against. I'd say you wouldn't have to worry while you're in school, but judging from the stories I've heard of what goes on here, I won't." All eyes, including Moody's, turned to look at Iris. "Aye, if Miss Potter's blush is anything to go by, this school isn't exactly the epitome of safety, is it?"

Moody went on to lecture them on the Unforgivables and they all took notes, except Malfoy, who was _trying_ to take notes, but his paws made it very difficult. Then Moody took out two spiders to perform the Killing Curse as well as the Cruciatus. All eyes turned to Iris once more when Moody used the Killing Curse. Despite her discomfort, Iris's face didn't move. Why should it? It wasn't as though she was the only person who had loved ones torn away from them by it, so why did everybody look at her as though she was the only one to be affected by it? Wizarding Britain's population was nearly decimated by the war, and there were more unused classrooms than ever, yet the pity was thrown her way. She hated it. _The pity should be felt for Neville and his parents_ , Iris though as Moody had gone on to use the Cruciatus.

Her parents were gone. She could move on from that, and she had. But Neville? His parents were tortured into insanity. Dumbledore had told her and Hermione earlier in the day that his parents were both in St. Mungos and that Neville visited a few times each year. Iris didn't think she'd be able to move on herself if her parents had lost their minds instead of dying.

She snapped out of her thoughts as she realized Moody had already starting using the Imperius curse on her classmates. Moody had turned Malfoy back into a person for this. Nobody could throw it off, not even Hermione, who had been forced to give a big kiss to a book — then again, perhaps Hermione had thrown it off but used the Imperius as an excuse. For some reason, Moody skipped over Iris's name and left her for last. Finally, all the other students had gone — they had all failed in throwing off the curse — and it was Iris's turn. She stood up and walked to the front of the classroom.

"Now I know you're wondering why I left you for last, Miss Potter, and the answer is simple. Having heard about all three of your years so far from Dumbledore, I'm going to assume you've a heck of a lot more willpower than most. Either that or you're incredibly foolish."

Iris felt a little annoyed that Dumbledore was going around and telling people of her time at Hogwarts. She put the Philosopher's Stone incident as well as the Chamber of Secrets ordeal up to mostly luck and the help of others. She considered the case of her repelling a hundred dementors with a Patronus mostly a fluke — she had seen herself cast the Patronus before she did it, so of course she had the confidence to do so. She had already done it before, or her past self did it — future self?

No matter how much she abused Hermione's time turner the year before, it still always confused her.

"Dumbledore said that if there was one person that was able to throw it off in this class, it'd be you. So ready yourself. _Imperio!"_ Moody said firmly, and Iris was hit with her second Unforgivable.

All of her stress and worry suddenly vanished, and Iris was left feeling as if she was floating on the most comfortable cloud. It was beyond anything sleep or meditation would give her. She felt completely content with life.

And then her comfort was interrupted by an irritating voice: _'Kick the table in front of you… Kick the leg of the table in front of you_.'

Well, that was annoying. Why should she do that when she was perfectly comfortable with where she currently was? She was floating on an immensely fluffy cloud, why on earth should she bother? ' _I'm fine right where I am,_ _thank you very much.'_

The other voice came back, to Iris's irritation. ' _Kick the table in front of you! Any part of it, kick_ _it_ _!_ ' Moody's voice said in her head.

No, she didn't think she would. Stupid thing to do, really.

' _Kick it,_ now! _'_

Iris was starting to get more irritated, and then the feeling of comfort began to slowly disappear as Iris realized she didn't want to kick anything at all. Iris furrowed her brows. It would most likely hurt, and she didn't want that — not at all.

"Kick the table leg!" growled Moody, not from her head, but from Moody himself. She had always _hated_ when adults told her to do something she'd prefer not to do. Why should they get any say in her life when they've never bothered to actually help her? Isn't there some saying about being allowed to get only if you also give? Figures of authority, and adults in general, had never given her much at all — they had mostly ignored her problems. Who did this person think he was, telling her to kick the damn table leg?

Before she could stop herself, she snapped irritably at Moody, "How about I kick that wooden leg of yours out from under you instead?"

Then she realized she had broken through the Imperius, and the rest of her senses came back to her. The Gryffindors were staring at her in awe and shock, the majority of the Slytherins in distaste. She looked over to Moody, nervous that she had finally overstepped the line with ex-Auror, but she only saw amusement and — was that pride or simply satisfaction?

"Look at _that_! That's more like it! Potter fought it and won, she batted it away like an annoying bug! Defiant little shite, aren't ya?" Moody whispered. "Brilliant, I say. I guess Dumbledore was onto something. Let's try it one more time to make sure it wasn't a fluke."

Moody actually tried it three more times, and by the last time, Iris was able to throw it off within seconds. By the end of the class, only Iris was able to fully throw the curse off. Two were able to resist for a certain amount of time before eventually succumbing: Hermione and, surprisingly, Lavender Brown.

Iris, Ron, and Hermione were walking to the common room, talking about how paranoid Moody was, when they came across the twins.

"We've just heard a rumor, champion of ours!" said Fred or George.

"You've just come from Defense with Moody, correct?"

"No one in our class was able to throw off the curse and yet…"

"We've heard that you've done just that!" Fred and George both said enthusiastically. Iris stared at the two for a second before grabbing both of their arms and dragging them to an empty classroom leaving a bewildered Ron and Hermione behind.

"Well, well, well, beautiful, if you say so," teased who Iris now realized was Fred.

"Shut up, Fred," Iris said.

"I'm George!" Fred said.

"No, you're Fred. Fred has more freckles on the outside of his eyebrows. George has less." Fred and George both stopped. Their heads snapped to look at each other. They both grabbed each other's face and turned them left and right to examine them. "Look, I was wondering if you two had any — er — _products_ that I could use or buy to spy. I'm not supposed to be in this stupid tournament so I'll be damned if I play by the rules. I want anything that could help me figure out what's coming, anything that could help me _in_ the tasks. I'll pay for any of —"

"Stop right there, we don't want your money," said George, holding up a hand. "If we can figure out something to spy with — which we have been working on, we just haven't actually got it down — then we will help you."

Iris nodded, satisfied.

"Actually, I have one condition," said Fred. George smacked Fred, but Fred waved him off. "You see, people are betting on this tournament. The biggest payouts would be on the bets placed _before_ the first task. Because after, people have more of an idea as to who would win. Now I know you're three years younger, but can you really tell me, Iris, that you don't have a damn good chance at winning this thing the way your luck plays out?"

Iris stared at Fred. "What, are you crazy? My luck is terrible! That's why I'm in this tournament in the first place! I —"

"Yes, your luck is terrible at _first_ , but it always plays out well in the end, doesn't it? Quirrell, the basilisk, the dementors, Sirius, the —"

"You know about Sirius?" Iris asked quickly.

"You think Ron keeps his mouth shut? Our mum and dad don't know but Ginny and us do. Dunno why you'd want to keep that a secret anyway, if he's innocent."

"I don't know," Iris said, "so I don't get tossed into Azkaban for aiding a fugitive?"

"Good point," said Fred, "but anyway, the _point_ _is_ your luck comes back to you in the end, doesn't it? Listen, we'll help you no matter what, even if you only try your bare minimum — you're like the badass pranking —" Iris rolled her eyes "— sister we've always wanted, not that we don't want Ginny of course, but it's good to have diversity. Speaking of, serious lack of pranks coming from you this year."

"Oh, enough with that," said Iris. "You say that _every_ year. I'm not a prankster, I just like to piss Snape off. I know I haven't pranked anyone in a while — unless Snape's opened that desk drawer recently — and it's I'm not a bloody prankster. I have better things to do."

"Better?" whispered Fred.

"Than pranks?" said George, and the two pouted.

"Look," said Fred, "We'll help you no matter what, but we _know_ you can win this thing. We really do!" George nodded vigorously. "But _if_ you could actually win this thing, we'd be most grateful… because… well…" Fred became very hesitant.

Iris groaned. "Just how much did you two bet on me?"

"More than we're willing to admit to be honest," said Fred.

"Even to each other," said George, and Fred nodded.

"You two didn't even admit to each other how much you bet on me?" Iris asked cautiously. They both nodded. "Guys!" she burst out. "Please don't tell me you're serious."

"We're serious," they both said, smiling.

Iris gaped at the two.

"I don't see why you shouldn't try, Iris," said Fred, suddenly serious. "Really, the only way you come out of this looking good is if you win or at least come in second place. If you come in any place but first or second, people will make fun of you and tell you how much of a mistake it was for you to put your name in — I know! I know you didn't do it, but we've listened around — people still believe you have, even a few Gryffindors. Why not show them? They're all betting against you. Everybody is taking our bets, because they don't know you like we do. Please?" Fred tried.

Iris stared at the two in disbelief before she realized they were telling the truth. Fred was even sugarcoating it; not even second place would save her from ridicule, and _she_ was the one that acted like she'd have no problem keeping up in front of the other champions. Why the hell should she not try to win? Before, she didn't want to because she assumed that if she won the first task, people would only keep believing she cheated her way in. She was only going to do enough to keep herself alive, but was that really enough when it came to not being bullied even more? At least the other Hogwart's champion was a Slytherin, she couldn't imagine what would happen if it was any other house.

"I — okay…" Iris said. "I'll try."

"Excellent!" said Fred. "Make us a lot of money! We don't really have anything to help you right now unless one of the tasks is to prank someone, but we have some stuff in testing. An extendable ear, for example. An ear on a string — lets you eavesdrop on conversations, ya know?"

"Please, yes," said Iris. "If you get that done soon, I'll win this tournament and the next one. I've got to go though, Hermione wanted to start me on the Summoning Charm today, get me to master it and all."

"Why?" said George.

Iris shrugged. "Said something about the Summoning Charm being all around useful, and that it would be possible to Summon things from outside whatever arena they give us."

Iris spent the next several hours in the Gryffindor common room, often practicing the Summoning Charm with Hermione. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only class they had that day. It was originally supposed to be a completely free day, but the Unforgivable Curses were apparently important enough to get Dumbledore to have everybody attend one today.

It was eleven o'clock in the evening when Iris had enough.

Iris threw her wand down. "Hermione, we've been at it for hours — no, _I've_ been at it for hours while you sit there and read. I'm done for today."

"You haven't mastered it yet, you really should keep going," Hermione said, not taking her eyes off her book. Iris didn't argue. Not only did she want to learn the Summoning Charm to use it in the tasks if she could, but she also thought it would be a great way to be lazy.

"Whatever, it's eleven o'clock. I'll be right back," Iris said as she got up. She went up the stairs to her dormitory and fetched her Invisibility Cloak. It was time for a trip to the library — more specifically, the Restricted Section. She slung her cloak over her shoulders and walked back down to the common room.

"I'll be back again, Hermione," Iris said as she walked by Hermione.

Hermione's head snapped up, "Where?"

"Library!" Iris yelled, not at all caring that the entire common room was staring her. They had all gotten used to Iris taking her Invisibility Cloak and going out to break the rules. Ever since Malfoy and Snape had found out about the cloak, she no longer cared who else knew; Malfoy had told anyone he could anyway. Her trunk could only be open by herself and Hermione anyway.

"It's past curfew," Hermione scolded, though half-heartedly.

"You're right," Iris said, slowly nodding her head and looking thoughtful. "So if I'm going to be breaking rules anyway, I might as well break more. Restricted Section it is!"

And she was out the portrait hole before Hermione could respond. The majority of the other Gryffindors knew there was no point in trying to stop her — most of them had gotten used to Iris losing points, not that it really mattered at the end considering Iris had always found a way of regaining them all. A few glared at her back as she exited the portrait hole.

Iris threw her cloak over herself and began her walk to the library. There were no students out, and she didn't see any teachers either. Just to be sure, she reached into her pocket to — she had forgotten her map. How could she have been so stupid? She let out a sigh and went on anyway. She was already far enough away that it wouldn't be worth it to go back. It would have to be like old times anyway, when she went to visit the Mirror of Erised or when she went to the library to try and find information on Nicholas Flamel.

As she was slowly walking through the corridors, her hair began to stand on end. She had travelled through the castle even later in the night by herself before, so why did this night feel off? The suits of armor she passed by seemed menacing for some reason, as though she was expecting them to suddenly jump out and do her in. But that would be ridiculous. Yet, every time she looked at a window, she expected a bloody hand to suddenly slap the other side of it before slowly dragging itself down, leaving a trailing handprint of blood behind. Why was she so unnerved?

She pushed the thoughts out of her head and continued on, ignoring any and all shadows she passed. She was halfway to the library when she heard footsteps. She stopped and listened. They were coming closer. They were just around the corner. Iris backed up against the wall and held her breath, and a black shadow came around the corner. Her heart stopped, and then she nearly cursed herself when she realized it was Snape, not some shadowy demon.

Letting out a quiet breath, and silently berating herself for thinking so stupidly, she waited for Snape to walk by. Once his back was to her and he was close to the other corner, she pointed her wand at his back. Just before Snape rounded the corner, the back of his robes changed to a brilliant purple. Iris continued to the library, passing more corners, statues, suites of armor, a whistling Dumbledore, and a few wandering ghosts.

Finally, she entered the library. The place gave off an eerie vibe when it was dark and empty. Iris remembered how scared she had been her first year when she was hunting for information on Flamel. She had actually felt better when Filch and Snape had shown up that night because it meant she was no longer alone in the dark. She was no longer outright afraid of the whispering books and shadowy corners of the library, but it still unsettled her, especially considering that apparently Hermione never heard the whispers of the books. Iris chalked it up to another strange quirk of hers, like Parseltongue, that would one day be explained on its own.

She eventually found what she was looking for, the Advanced Potion-Making book. Not wanting to stay any longer than she had to in a place full of ominous whispers, she grabbed a few books on dragons and advanced shield charms, and left to go back to the common room. It was on the walk back when Iris finally realized just why she had felt so disconcerted: Moody — or more specifically, Moody's lesson. The way Moody talked, the lesson itself, the permission from Dumbledore, it all seemed as though both the ex-Auror and the greatest wizard alive were wary, watchful, more so than usual, like they were expecting something to happen. And if _they_ were worried, why the hell shouldn't she be?

Her musings on what could have worried two powerful wizards — Voldemort, most likely — were interrupted as she got to the portrait for Gryffindor tower. She entered through the portrait hole and found that there were still a couple people up, and that they were talking about what she was just thinking of. Moody's lesson.

She heard Seamus say, "And the way he saw Lavender doing whatever it was she was doing? He was like, 'Listen bitch, I fucking see you so knock it off.'"

Iris saw Lavender chuck a pillow at Seamus, who dodged it. The pillow hit Hermione instead, and she glared at Lavender, but then caught sight of Iris. She waved Iris over.

"What books did you get?" Hermione asked, apparently not at all upset she had just practically stolen a couple of books. When she thought about it, it was probably the _books_ aspect that kept Hermione at bay. "Did you get caught?"

"No — well, Dumbledore saw me," Iris said, shrugging before she jumped on the couch.

"What?!" Hermione whispered. "What did he do? Give you detention?"

"Nod at me."

"What?" Hermione asked, bemused.

"He gave me a nod and continued walking."

Hermione gaped at her. "He nodded at you?" At Iris's own nod, Hermione continued, "Dumbledore saw you sneaking about after curfew in your Invisibility Cloak, and he just gave you a nod and went on his way?" Another nod. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Iris asked, looking highly amused.

"For slapping your arm when you used 'Iris Potter is my favorite student' as a possible password to his office," Hermione said, staring at the wall in thought. Iris gave a small snort.

"As for the books," Iris whispered, "I've got the Advanced Potion-Making one and a few others. I also grabbed two books on dragons and another two on advanced shield charms. I figured if they were in the Restricted Section, they'd have some valuable information, you know?"

Hermione nodded and said, "Good. As long as we return them in their current condition, it's the lesser evil. Give them here, I'll skim them real quick."

Iris gave Hermione the books and turned her attention to the conversation the others were having. Parvati, Lavender, Seamus, Dean, Angelina, the twins, Alicia, and Katie had all arranged the furniture in a large circle and were still talking about Moody's lesson. Iris turned the couch around to face the circle, closed her eyes, and listened in. It wasn't until a few minutes later that one of Parvati's comments caught Iris's attention.

"I'm just really surprised Dumbledore gave Moody permission to use them," Parvati said and the rest nodded along. "I mean, they're illegal, aren't they?"

"Dumbledore is worried," Iris said, speaking up for the first time. "Nevermind the fact they're illegal, they're also completely inappropriate to show to fourth years — definitely that Cruciatus."

"Coming from you, that's saying something" Seamus said with a laugh.

"I mean," Iris continued ignoring Seamus, "look how Neville reacted to the Cruciatus. And I doubt I was the only one that didn't like having a curse designed purely to kill being cast so close to them. For someone like Dumbledore to be okay with that means he's worried about something; what with the Dark Mark at the World Cup, my name coming out of the goblet, Bertha Jorkin's disappearance, and now teaching those curses to fourth years — possibly the younger years too? Not to mention that while I was in Dumbledore's office earlier today, I found his Pensieve — something to view memories in for those who don't know — and he was reviewing old memories of trials from the last war. Karkaroff's trial, then —"

"Karkaroff was a Death Eater?" screeched Lavender.

"Yes," Iris said. "He gave away a bunch of other names to get himself out of Azkaban. Ever notice how his smiles at Dumbledore never reach his eyes? Then there was Bagman's trial — no, he wasn't a Death Eater, he was just stupid. And then the trial for the Lestranges and Barty Crouch's son, Dumbledore said something about how Pensieves allow you to find something you missed before — meaning that he's looking for any clues he's missed. You all heard how Moody was talking, as if he was expecting the war to start up again. He wasn't even concerned about the curses being illegal or inappropriate." Seeing the worried looks, Iris added, "It's as though Dumbledore said, 'You know what, fuck that — Moody, come teach these motherfuckers how to take care of themselves.'"

They all gave a nervous laugh.

"You sure you're not turning into Moody, Iris?" Seamus asked.

"Considering my track record here, I think I'm entitled to be paranoid," Iris said. With everything she had just told them, did they not also have the same sense of foreboding she had? Then again, they haven't exactly lived her life. They didn't have a Dark Lord taking their continued existence as a personal insult. "I don't even want to think of what this June has in store for me. Anyway, it's late — I'm going to sleep. Hermione?"

"Coming," Hermione said, and they both made their way to their dorm. "You know, it _is_ all suspicious, and I imagine Dumbledore knows way more than us, has seen or heard of more mysterious events, and is connecting more dots. I never noticed how Karkaroff's smile doesn't reach his eyes but I did notice how his smiles always felt _off._ That was actually really observant of you —"

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I'm not, I know you see and know way more than you let on. I just wish you wouldn't hide it so much," Hermione said.

"It's a habit."

"Dursleys?" Hermione asked, observing Iris's face. "Just tell me, please? It's not good to keep it all bottled up. Why do you really hide your intelligence?"

Iris sighed irritably. "They didn't like good grades, alright? First time I brought home grades better than Dudley's, they threw me in the cupboard for a week — don't give me that look, one of the reasons I don't speak of this stuff is because I hate those looks. It's done, it's in the past, I'm over it," Iris said sharply.

Hermione sighed too, but softly. "I know that, Iris, I do… but… you really shouldn't think it's all in the past, because it's not. Even now, you flinch when someone touches you unexpectedly. You don't show your true intelligence out of fear of punishment. It took me all of first year to get you to eat more than just the bare minimum."

"It's not _just_ that. I already stand out, so do I really need to stand out anymore by raising my hand to answer every question?"

"No, but I _know_ you can do a lot better on exams, quizzes, and homework in general. You're purposely not putting in enough work, and it's going to bite you in the back one day. If I have to be pushy like first year to get you to actually put some effort in, I will!" Hermione said with resolute determination.

Iris looked down. "God, I don't deserve someone like you," she whispered. "Hold on, pushy like first year?"

"Well, yes, remember when I —"

"No, I mean _just_ first year?" Iris said, smirking. She received a face full of pillow as a response.

"Shut up."

"Hey Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Where the hell was Ron?" Iris asked.

"Did you not hear what he said he was going to —"

"No."

Iris wondered where Hermione had found so many pillows.

* * *

 **Headmaster's Office**

Albus Dumbledore was reviewing more memories. He _knew_ he was missing something, but what could it be? The Death Eaters at the World Cup weren't anything important, just former Death Eaters looking to have some _fun_. It made him sick. He wasn't sure if his heart could take living through another war. He had made plenty of mistakes in his long life, but the possible mistakes and consequences he'd face in a second war with Voldemort made his stomach twist. And then there was Iris...

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter," Dumbledore said tiredly. Alastor Moody walked in. "Ah, Alastor, do come in. How was class today?"

"Fine," grunted Moody. "Just thought you'd want to know you were right about the girl. Threw off the Imperius like you said."

"Oh?" Dumbledore said. "How many times did it take?"

"Just once."

"Really?" Dumbledore asked, pleasantly surprised. He wasn't sure if he was expecting her to throw it off, but he assumed that if _someone_ was to, it would be her — but on the first try?

"Yes, really," Moody said. "Couldn't get to her. I had to resort to verbally commanding her, because the mental ones weren't doing anything at all. Told her to kick the table leg out loud, want to know what she did instead?" Moody said, chuckling.

"Verbally command her... Most impressive…" Dumbledore whispered, staring down at his Pensieve. "What did she do?"

Moody let out an almost mad cackle. "Told me she'd kick my wooden leg instead, right out from under me."

Dumbledore smiled, and placed the memory of what Moody had just said in a vial. He hated what the Dursleys had done to her, but he couldn't deny placing her there had a positive effect. She was a defiant little one, that was for sure. He had considered training her again, but decided it was pointless. She'd have to die, and even if she didn't, it wouldn't matter.

An untrained Iris Potter would last five seconds against Voldemort, if even that.

A trained Iris Potter would last ten.

The only way a trained Iris Potter would last any longer was if he had trained her to the point of her having no social life, and he couldn't do that. It would be pointless. Iris would only fight and die because of the people she surrounds herself with. Taking that away to buy more time to turn her into a killing machine wouldn't do any good.

Then again, this was his train of thought before she had conjured a Patronus powerful enough to send off a hundred dementors.

Still, at the end of the day, Voldemort had many decades of skill and experience on her. He himself had many decades of skill and experience on Voldemort and yet, Voldemort was a strong match for him.

"Alastor... I've told Hagrid to show Iris the dragons once they're brought in, subtlety, of course. He is still under the oath just like the two of us but there are ways around it. Igor and Olympe have already attempted to find out just what the first task is. I believe it's only fair to help young Iris out. I know you're under the oath as well, but once Iris finds out about the dragons, give her a hint, will you? I myself will be giving her one about the serpent. She'll need a way to get past the dragon though. Suggest to her that she use a broom, if you will. She's quite good with one, and if anyone could outfly a dragon, it'd be her."

"Aye Albus, will do," Moody said, and the two sat down to pleasant conversation.

* * *

 **1994, November 2, Divinations Classroom**

Iris was reading through a book Hermione had given her on the basics of Ancient Runes. She wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention as to what was going on in the classroom. Neither was Ron, as he was levitating spitballs high up, moving them amongst the ceiling, then dropping them from above Lavender and Parvati. Iris thought of telling him off as the whispers of ' _Wingardium_ _Leviosa_ ' were getting on her nerves, but in the end decided to let Ron have his fun.

Ignoring yet another so-called prediction that she was going to die, Iris put her attention back to her book, _The Basics of Ancient Runes_. To a complete surprise to her, she had found it very interesting. The very advanced portions of Ancient Runes fascinated her. It could all be so useful. It was like a whole new branch of magic to her — no, it _was_ a new branch of magic. Why use a simple Locking Charm that can easily be countered when you could draw a Locking Rune on the door, one that could only be countered if the person on the other side drew an Unlocking Rune. And how many people would even know how to?

Hermione had told her Ancient Runes wasn't popular. Outside of Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, and Alchemy, Ancient Runes was the least picked class in N.E.W.T. years. Iris figured it was most likely the ignorance and stupidity of the average wizard or witch coming into play again. From what she could see from just this book, Ancient Runes could be incredibly useful.

There were runes that would summon a small vortex of ash, fire, frost, water, and more, or runes that would disarm someone or reveal the invisible. These were the somewhat basic ones, but even _they_ were N.E.W.T. level or beyond magic. The more advanced runic magic would go far beyond N.E.W.T. levels for the average wizard or witch, and they included runes such as ones that would paralyze, cause memory loss or frenzy, spawn magical arrows to shoot at a predetermined spot, trap a person in a magical bubble, force-Apparate someone to a predetermined location, and _so much more_.

One particularly neat one she saw was called a Roaming Rune. You'd draw the rune, or really _runes_ in a circle, sit inside it, activate it and you'd be able to leave your body in a sense and travel a certain distance — the distance depending on how far the outer anchoring runes are (and there were limits, of course), which were designed to create a dome of influence one could ' _roam_ ' in. This was incredibly advanced, and would apparently take over a decade of knowledge on Ancient Runes to be able to do _'roam_ ' even thirty meters in a direction. She knew she'd likely never get to this level, but she enjoyed fantasizing about it anyway.

There were also wards made from runes, which were different than your normal, average wards, but Iris couldn't find much information on that in the book other than an example of how one could create a certain ward — a sphere or dome of influence that wouldn't allow fire to be present at all, no matter what. Enchanting also dealt with Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and Iris thought creating her own enchantments could be very useful.

She couldn't believe she actually found a subject that she'd be interested in _reading_ about. Iris suddenly realized she was going to have her schedule absolutely packed. She thought the first two months were a lot because they had to go through the first two years of Defense Against the Dark Arts, but now? There was the tournament, the Animagus process, learning Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and who knows what other fields of magic she'd pick up on — possibly Occlumency? No, that could wait… Then again… She knew part of Occlumency was clearing one's mind, and didn't she have to do that for meditation? Perhaps the basics of Occlumency could come with the Animagus meditation, and then she'd start on the next steps next year.

It took Ron budging her for her to realize that the class had ended. She hadn't even realized so much time had passed, and for a second she wished class hadn't ended so she could continue reading, but then she remembered that today would be the day she and Hermione started brewing the potions to really start their journey to becoming Animagi. Well, Iris figured Hermione would be doing most of the brewing . Iris didn't think she couldn't do it herself; she was fairly decent at potions when she didn't have Snape breathing down her neck; it was just that Hermione tended to get a little _assertive_ when it came to group projects.

And before she knew it, she was in the common room.

"Hermione and I are going to start brewing those potions, Ron. Wanna come with?" Iris asked, knowing full well that he was going to make an excuse — most likely involving chess.

"Er — I — I actually made plans with Seamus to play some chess after Divinations," Ron said, not looking Iris in the eye.

"It's okay, Ron. I'm not Hermione, I'm not going to be upset if you don't want to spend the next hour brewing potions. Just tell me to sod off, honestly."

Ron gave a nervous laughter. "Er — sod off?" he said hesitantly.

"Wow, what a confident boy you are," Iris joked. "But seriously, I spent the first decade of my life being told by people that they didn't want anything to do with me. The fact you're my friend at all is more than enough, so no need for silly excuses. Besides, I heard Seamus say he was going outside with Dean," she said, and Ron blushed. "Anyway, I'll see you later then."

Iris ran upstairs to her dorm, grabbed the Potions book she kept hidden in her blood locked trunk, and went to meet Hermione in the empty classroom they had agreed upon. Hermione was not in the empty classroom however, she was in the common room.

"Iris! Come quick, I have to show you something!" Hermione said excitedly. Iris quirked an eyebrow demanding more elaboration, but Hermione just grabbed her hand and raced out the common room. "Where's Ron? I want to show him too."

"Went to play chess with Seamus," Iris said without pause.

"Oh well, you'll do then. Come on!"

In no time, they were standing in front of a large painting of food. Iris knew what this was about, and Hermione's excitement frightened her a bit. How in the world would enslaved house-elves make Hermione so happy?

"Um, Hermione?"

"Oh, you'll see Iris! You'll see you were wrong, you and Ron, just you wait," Hermione said, still smiling at the portrait. Iris had a sudden and slightly disturbing thought.

"Hermione?" Iris asked, looking at her warily.

"Hm?"

"You haven't rallied the house-elves into a rebellion, have you?" Iris asked dryly.

Hermione didn't answer, but tickled the pear to get the painting to open. Iris followed in after her, suddenly feeling a bit apprehensive.

She pictured walking into the kitchen only to find a hundred house-elves lined up and mobilized, carrying flaming torches and pitchforks, with a cross carrying Dumbledore, who had been crucified. She imagined Dobby showing up with a maniacal grin as he set Dumbledore on fire.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts away as she stepped into the kitchen.

Thankfully, there was no army of house-elves. They _had_ however stopped and glared fearfully at Hermione for a second before going back to work. Before Iris could take in her surroundings, something slammed right into legs, causing her to fall backwards. Before she could see what it was, something had wrapped itself around her head.

"Iris Potter, ma'am! Iris Potter ma'am! You've come to see Dobby!" squealed Dobby, his hands attempting to rub against every bit of skin Iris had on her head. For one terrifying moment, she thought she had been right in her wild guess about the elves rallying.

Eyes wide, Iris replied, "D-Dobby?"

"It _is_ Dobby, ma'am!" Dobby said, nodding his head so vigorously that Iris was worried his head would snap off. "Dobby has missed you much, ma'am, Dobby has been hoping for Miss Iris Potter to come visit Dobby, for he has not forgotten what Iris Potter has done for Dobby!"

Iris and Hermione went on to talk with Dobby for a bit, which led to the discovery of Winky, who had been completely drunk off of butterbeer. Dobby and Hermione talked about Winky and Dobby's story since the last time Iris had seen either, while Iris sat down drinking tea. Iris didn't participate much in the conversation as it went on about Crouch, the apparent evil of Bagman, and Dobby's plans for the money he had earned.

"Miss Iris Potter, ma'am?" Dobby said, snapping Iris out of her thoughts.

"Yes, Dobby?" Iris said, sipping her tea.

"Iris Potter, ma'am, could Dobby… could Dobby come visit you sometimes, ma'am?" Dobby asked tentatively, and Iris felt her heart pain at the hesitantly hopeful eyes of Dobby, as if he was expecting her to decline immediately.

"Of course, Dobby. You're welcome to visit whenever you like."

Dobby beamed with joy.

When the two girls walked out of the kitchen, Iris turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, we should get started on the potions."

"I know, I know. I just wanted you to see Dobby. He was so excited when I told him I'd get you. You're practically Merlin to him — the female version. But yes, we do. We need a place to brew them too. Myrtle's bathroom again?"

Iris shook her head. "No, ever since second year, I'll see people going in there on the map, most likely to see if they can find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets — you know how rumors spread. Though I suppose we could go down to the Chamber itself…"

"Didn't you need Fawkes to leave last time though? I don't think he'd be all too keen to help us out every time? And doesn't it smell? And isn't the slide down there filthy?"

"Yes, but we could bring brooms. And I honestly wouldn't be surprised if there was another way out. Salazar _had_ to have made another exit, one that opens with Parseltongue. We can use spells to freshen it up, and to clean ourselves of the filth. Besides, I've been meaning to explore the place."

Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"Well last time, I was a bit busy trying not to be eaten by a leviathan."

"Leviathan's are enormous sea creatures, Iris," Hermione said as she began to steer the two towards Madam Hooch's office.

"It was enormous and could swim — close enough. Then there was Riddle and Ginny... I just didn't have any time to explore the place, to see where the basilisk itself came from."

They entered Myrtle's bathroom ten minutes later, when they had taken one broom from Madam Hooch and Iris's Firebolt from their dormitory, and they were thankful to see that the ghost was not there. Iris walked over to the sink and hissed for the sink to open. She caught Hermione's shiver at the sound.

"Sorry," Hermione said, embarrassed after Iris looked pointedly at her. "Parseltongue just sounds… _unnatural_."

"I wouldn't know," Iris said as she gave Hermione a great push on the back, sending her into the hole. When Hermione's screams finally stopped, Iris decided to test out her theory.

" _Give me stairs_ " she hissed in Parseltongue, and sure enough, spiral stairs appeared. Iris walked down them until she reached the bottom a few minutes later.

"Stairs?!" Hermione shouted, outraged. "You could make _stairs_ appear, and you _pushed_ me?"

"Yep," Iris said, without a care. "You could have flown down too. C'mon, let's go."

Grumbling, Hermione followed Iris through the caverns until they reached the shredded skin of the basilisk. After gaping at it for a moment, Hermione turned to Iris.

"It — it was this size?" she said, disbelief and shock written across her face.

"That's deflated," Iris said simply, and she walked on. They made it to the next door which opened at the command of Iris, and walked inside the Chamber.

She could very clearly see the enormous basilisk. Iris's blood ran cold at the sight of it and she had _killed_ the damn thing.

It was funny. She killed it when she was two years younger, but for some reason, it looked larger than it did before. It must have been her fear the first time around downplaying it.

"Iris," Hermione gasped, gaping at the giant snake. "You — you —" Hermione tried to say, but she only gaped some more. "You — you said — you said it was as thick as an oak tree…"

"I did," Iris said faintly, finally starting to realize just how big the snake was.

"I thought you meant a small oak tree…"

"How small are we talking?"

"Smaller than a bus!" Hermione launched herself at Iris and buried her face into Iris's shoulder. "That — that _thing_ is large enough to swallow Hagrid whole!"

"Looks like it," Iris said nodding, still a bit mesmerized by the size of the beast.

"It's as thick as a... as a... I could easily stand inside it!" Hermione exclaimed, still burying her face into Iris.

From the bottom of its jaw, which was facing the ceiling, to the top of the head, which was laying on the floor, it was still taller than Iris. She could most definitely see it swallowing Hagrid. It was at least a hundred feet long. Iris swallowed the lump in her throat. She saw the splatters of blood — her blood — on the floor, as well as the basilisk fang. She stared at it, unable to shake the memory of that night. She didn't think she had ever been that terrified in her entire life. Iris remembered how completely hopeless she felt battling the basilisk, diving to the side to dodge the basilisk's strikes — over, and over, and over… She remembered how little the sword seemed to do as she hacked at the side of the basilisk's head every time it struck where she had been a second before, how it felt drowning as she held onto the basilisk as it traveled through the underwater pipes...

"Iris? Are you okay?" Hermione asked, looking concerned at her pale face.

"The pain I felt that night was beyond anything I had _ever_ felt before…" Iris whispered.

"Do you want to talk about it? Tell me what happened exactly? You've only told me a little."

Iris took a deep breath. "See the blood? That was after the basilisk struck. After it chased me around everywhere, after we went swimming, after diving over and over to dodge its blows for a minute or two, I finally messed up. I stumbled on a piece of rock and knew I couldn't dive again. The basilisk dove, and I shoved the sword into its mouth as it came at me. The bone in my right arm must've completely shattered from the fang that pierced it, and my ribs were mostly broken from the impact too. But the pain from the venom was unbelievable. It felt as if it was acid, running through my veins and all, like thick needles were sticking out from the veins — hundreds of them.

"I was _so_ close to dying, Hermione. I could literally feel my life slowly drain away. My vision began to blur and darken. My life didn't flash before my eyes or anything, I remember trying to think of a way to tell Ginny what she should do, how she should leave me, because if she had been found by my body… but I couldn't even form the words. I was clinging so desperately to life, begging myself to stay alive long enough to let me at least tell _Ginny_ to tell you and Ron my final goodbyes, but I couldn't," Iris finished. She looked over at Hermione to see her with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh, Iris…" Hermione whispered. "I'm so sorry. I am _so_ sorry, I couldn't even imagine — I don't even — I know I wouldn't have had the strength to do what you did. Come here, I'm not letting go of you for the next five minutes." And Hermione meant it. She and Iris held onto each other as they sat down. Iris tried to ignore the basilisk's corpse, and the corners of the Chamber, which were full of black, smoky tendrils of shadow until she had stabbed the diary, as though the diary was corrupting the very Chamber with its evil.

"Come on," Iris said, a minute later. "Let's see if we can find any secret rooms."

* * *

 **Beauxbatons Carriage**

"Try again, Fleur," said Madam Maxime.

" _I can not!_ " Fleur shouted angrily in French.

"English, your accent still needs work and you know how some here will make fun of you for it. In fact, the reason we're here today has used your accent against you," Madam Maxime said.

"Why does it matter? It is not like I will be 'ere longer zan a year!"

"I don't care. Now, go again. Happy thoughts, Fleur, happy thoughts."

After a moment, Fleur raised her wand and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" Nothing came out of her wand, not even a mist. "Zis is _ridicule!_ I can not, it will not!"

Madam Maxime sighed. "Fine, we're done today. But we'll continue to practice this. Iris Potter made a fool of you, and rightfully so — you should not have let your temper get the best of you."

"Just because she can produce a Patronus does not mean she will be a worthy opponent!" Fleur said angrily. "And why are you siding with 'er?"

"I am siding with her because she was the more rational one. She does not appear to make rash decisions. She does not want to be in this tournament, and yet you were the first to get as angry as you did. _Apparently_ , a fourteen year old can produce magic more advanced than yours. Why should I side with you if you can not keep up with a fourth year? And you do not know if she will be a worthy opponent. Most adults can not produce a Patronus and she did, so she might have other tricks up her sleeve. It is embarrassing and as we know dementors will play a part in this tournament at some time, you might as well learn it."

"But not even you can produce it," Fleur grumbled.

"No, but I am not a champion. Off you go, Fleur. We'll start again tomorrow."

* * *

 **Chamber of Secrets**

Iris stared at the face of the statue of Salazar Slytherin. That's where the basilisk had come from, but how on earth could she get up there? The face of the statue was near the ceiling and the ceiling had to be at least a hundred feet high. She could build a ladder, perhaps? Maybe there was another secret passageway up there? She and Hermione had already found one that would lead up to a cupboard in the kitchens — she wondered if Salazar was heavier than the others — a one way trip however; Iris had to go all the way to the entrance of the Chamber again.

"Hey Hermione?" Iris asked. "I want to get up there, in the mouth of the statue. It opens, and there's probably _something_ there. Know any spells to let us levitate or something?" she asked. Hermione looked at her as though she was stupid, then looked pointedly at a nearby pillar, which had two brooms leaning against it, then back at Iris's red face. "Oh."

She went and got her Firebolt, swung her leg over it, and flew up to the head of the statue. Looking down, she saw the truth length of the basilisk.

"Good lord..." she whispered before looking back to Salazar's head. " _Speak to me, Slytherin, shittiest of the Hogwarts four, open up,_ " Iris hissed in parseltongue. To her surprise, it did indeed open. "Hermione! It opened, grab a broom and meet me up here!" she yelled down.

"No thanks!" Hermione yelled back. "You — er — you take a look, I'll stay down here, safe and with two feet planted on the ground…"

Rolling her eyes, Iris flew slowly into the mouth and stepped onto the tongue.

" _Lumos_ ," she quietly said, lighting her wand, as she made her way further into the hole. She came onto a balcony, with very wide stairs on either side leading down into darkness. Iris could not see what was at the bottom of the stairs — her wand light didn't reach the ceiling, the floor, nor the walls. There was a spark of curiosity in her, and with another quiet incantation, Iris whispered, " _Lumos_ _Maxima_." A brighter light appeared at the tip of her wand, blinding her. Iris gave her wand a swift and hard flick, and the ball of light shot out from her wand and flew to the ceiling, illuminating the entire room. The bright spots in her eyes faded, and Iris took a look at the room from the balcony.

It was quite large, not as large as the Chamber of Secrets itself, but close enough — definitely wider and longer than the Great Hall — it would have to be, as Iris wouldn't have been surprised if the Great Hall couldn't completely fit the basilisk. Aside from being large, there wasn't much to it. She saw a large candle chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling, and two dozen or so normal candles scattered amongst the walls. Iris sent " _Incendio_!"after " _Incendio_!"until all of the candles were lit. Satisfied with even more light, Iris looked at the room again and noticed this time around that there were two sets of large wooden doors on the left and right wall.

The spark of curiosity became a raging fire.

She had descended the stairs now, making her way to the doors on the right wall. She pushed. A loud and ominous creak filled the empty chamber as Iris pushed both doors slowly open, looking down at the ground as she did so. The doors were pushed as far as they could given her arm span, and she looked up.

Darkness.

She should have figured. She raised her wand to shine some light into the room, but before she could, she saw something _moving_ in the dark.

Iris stilled.

She couldn't move, because what was slowly uncoiling itself in front of her was very large, and _very_ familiar. Before she could process what she needed to do, a large blue head with toxic green eyes appeared before her. Iris was petrified, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the fear or because of the basilisk.

* * *

 **Chamber of Secrets**

Hermione was worried. She had shouted for Iris after a few moments of silence but Iris didn't respond. Suddenly, a distant and ominous groaning sound came from the open mouth of Salazar Slytherin. Hermione began praying that Iris hadn't just opened some ancient door by herself. Then there was silence. Hermione strained her hearing, and her heart began to beat faster. _Iris had killed the basilisk, Iris had killed the basilisk, Iris had killed the basilisk_. There shouldn't be any more danger. The basilisk was dead. Dead, with its yellow killing eyes, its venomous fangs, and its unearthly roar, which Iris had described as a mix between a lion's roar and an eagle's screech. Hermione had a hard time imagining what it would sound like, and then a moment later, she knew _exactly_ what it sounded like.

Hermione's blood had never run so cold so fast, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the roar, or the fact that it came from above her, from Salazar Slytherin's open mouth. Before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed a broom and was speeding upwards. The broom was nowhere near the speed of the Firebolt, however, and it took Hermione far longer than she wanted to fly all the way up. She wasn't confident in going straight up so she was forced to fly up side to side, a vertical zigzag.

She didn't even stop fully before she jumped off. She sent a Reductor Curse at the corner of the mouth and tried her best to quickly Transfigure two pieces of the rubble into two mirrors. It still took a few moments, as mirrors were complicated to create through Transfiguration.

She sprinted past the tongue, still clutching her broomstick, and down the hall. She didn't stop until she hit the balcony, almost sending herself over the edge. She looked down below and saw Iris down below, a great serpent staring down at her. To Hermione's amazement, Iris had not dropped dead, nor was she being attacked.

"Iris?" she whispered, and her voice carried throughout the large room.

"Yes, Hermione?" Iris said in an odd, forced calm sort of voice.

"What are you doing?" Hermione said, whispering still.

Iris didn't respond for a moment. And then — "Negotiating."

Iris turned back to the basilisk.

She began hissing.

The basilisk hissed back.

After a few more moments of Hermione staring, gobsmacked, at her best friend speaking to a basilisk whose gaze apparently didn't kill, Iris clapper her hands together happily.

"Hermione, new plan!" Iris shouted to her. "You get to meet a famous author!"


	4. Fantastic Beasts and the Girl Who Lived

**Author's Notes:**

Training sessions can get old. I totally get it. New spells and such will be explained at first, then the practice, learning, training will just happen in the background. This doesn't mean Iris will become powerful in the background. It'll still take time, and you'll see the improvements outside of the background training, but you, as a reader, won't have to read through a hundred training sessions.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **Fantastic Beasts and the Girl Who Lived**

 **1994, November 2, Hospital Wing.**

One look at the ceiling was all it took for Iris to realize where she was. The last thing she remembered was — ah, yes — asking a basilisk for a ride and then not ducking. She had gotten herself knocked out by a low ceiling. _Great_. Hermione was never going to let her live this down. She didn't think she would be getting another Special Award for Services to the School for this one. No, if anything, she'd getting several lectures. She could imagine it already.

Madam Pomfrey's disbelief at her getting injured before the first task was even held, Hermione's anger at scaring her, McGonagall's admonishment for endangering herself with a low ceiling, Snape muttering about how it was unfortunate she _had_ lived...

She took a look around. It was still daytime. Or did more than a day pass? Iris hoped it was the former, as she did not want to miss out on a single day to prepare for the first task. She lifted her blanket off of her, and swung her feet off the bed. She felt no pain in her head.

Conjuring a hair tie to tie her hair back and placing her wand back in her holster, she began making her way to the doors, and just as she expected, they burst open. Honestly, it was almost as though the castle itself knew she had gotten out of bed and informed the headmaster, Pomfrey, and McGonagall. _Every single time_ she tried to leave the infirmary... Pomfrey most likely places some charms on the beds to inform her if there's a chance in the pressure, to tell her if a student has woken up or simply ran off.

"Would you like your middle name on the plaque?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she made her way towards Iris. When Iris only stared at her with furrowed eyebrows, she added, "The plaque that we'll be adding above one of these beds! We might as well designate one of these beds purely for you, Miss Potter. Or perhaps we'll just create a new room for you? I'll have to stock it full of all kinds of potions to keep up, of course," she muttered.

"Iris Vivienne Potter," Iris said, smiling. "Yeah, why not? I really don't get to use my middle name often enough."

"Don't take that cheek with me! The tournament hasn't even had its first task and you've already nearly gotten yourself killed! Another basilisk! Goodness me, you're an even _more_ suicidal version of Newton."

"Nearly killed? Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?"

Dumbledore looked at her. "You nearly fell a hundred feet according to Miss Granger."

Iris grimaced. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh_. Now, Miss Granger said something about another basilisk and a famous author?"

"Er — the basilisk, it mentioned that Newt was taking care of it before, and that it had been taken from Newt by Riddle, and stuck in the Chamber. When he — I'm assuming it's a male — when he refused to become what Riddle was asking him to, Riddle locked him up in an adjacent room in the Chamber."

Dumbledore's eyebrows had risen up throughout her explanation.

"Newton's basilisk?" he whispered to himself. Then he gave a great chuckle. "Things always seem to happen to you, don't they, Miss Potter? Newt had lost his basilisk — or as we now know, stolen — over fifty years ago. Around the time the Chamber was originally open. I'm surprised I did not even think of a possible connection. He had even been in Britain that year. How big is he now, if I may ask?"

"He was large enough to swallow me whole in one bite, that's for sure," Iris said, to the gasps of McGonagall and Pomfrey. "But not nearly as large as the basilisk from second year."

"What do you mean not nearly as large?" McGonagall asked sharply.

"I mean, the other one — the dead one — was large enough to possibly swallow Hagrid whole in one bite."

Even Dumbledore's jaw dropped a little at that statement, and Iris shrugged.

Dumbledore looked at her under raised eyebrows, "The original basilisk was —"

"Large enough for even _you_ to stand in," said Iris. "I'm honestly clueless as to how that thing got around the halls, never mind the pipes."

"Basilisks have the ability to thin themselves out significantly," Dumbledore said once he had regained his composure. "Now, I think it's time I contact Newton. He'll be most pleased to hear of this. I imagine he'll be here within ten minutes of me contacting him, so Miss Potter, if you could make your way towards the second floor girls lavatory?" and Dumbledore stolled out of the infirmary without waiting for an answer.

Just as Dumbledore left, Hermione walked in. She had a blank expression on her face as she walked up to Iris and threw her arms around her.

"You're so _stupid_ ," she said to Iris.

Five minutes later, both Hermione and Iris made their way to Myrtle's restroom. They found Dumbledore and another old man there, bouncing on the heels of his feet.

"Ah, Miss Potter, is it?" the other old man said. Iris nodded, and the man stared at her for few moments before Dumbledore coughed and gave Newt a look Iris couldn't place. "You've found Jerry then? I absolutely can not _wait_ to see him again," Newt continued.

Holding back a smile, Iris raised an eyebrow. "You named a basilisk _Jerry_?"

"Iris, you wanted to rename Hedwig to ' _Ragnarok_ , _Destroyer_ _of_ _Worlds_ ,'" said Hermione.

"And I stand by that. It's a great name," said Iris.

Before Hermione could retort, Dumbledore cut in. "Ladies, this is Newton Scamander. He raised Jerry, the basilisk."

"Scamander? Now _that's_ a great name —"

"Mr. Scamander?" Hermione perked up, looking from Iris to Newt. "Newton Scamander? I've read your book! It's brilliant! Iris, you remember? Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?"

"The one Ron and I wrote all over?" Iris asked, and she noticed the grimace of both Newt and Hermione. "By the way, there _is_ a colony of acromantulas in Scotland. As a matter of fact —"

Dumbledore looked at her. "Iris…"

"It's actually here, in the Forbidden Forest!" Iris said happily. "Their leader is named Aragog, and he tried to eat me," Iris finished matter-of-factly, ignoring Dumbledore's protest.

As Newt's mouth opened to say something, Dumbledore butted in. "Well, I think it's time we journey into the Chamber of Secrets, is it not?"

Iris went into the lavatory and opened up the entrance to the Chamber. The group stood at the edge of the hole, Hermione _coincidentally_ being the nearest. Before anyone could say anything, Iris put her hand behind Hermione's back and gave a great shove. Once again, Hermione fell through the hole screaming and cursing Iris's name.

Iris turned to look at the other two. "Don't worry, she's fine. You need to slide down. Go on, I've got to go last so I can close it as I jump."

The rest followed Hermione's lead and jumped into the hole. After the last had leapt in, Iris waited a moment before calling for the stairs. She took her time walking down the pipes, and once she made it to the bottom, she faced a very upset Hermione, and a disbelieving Newt.

"You could create stairs the whole time?" asked Newt slowly.

"Yeah, why?" Iris asked. Before Hermione could explode, she added, "Oh, c'mon. You all spend all day walking up and down stairs. How many times do you get to slide down a huge pipe? I was doing you a favor."

Newt's lips twitched upwards, and Iris heard him whisper to Dumbledore, "It was definitely Potter."

Iris gave him a bemused look.

By the time the group had made it past the cave-in, Hermione had asked Newt Scamander at least two dozen questions. Iris was surprised to see that Newt didn't mind one bit. He was even offering questions of his own as a way of getting Hermione to think of the answer herself. She wouldn't have minded him as the Care of Magical Creatures professor if Hagrid wasn't already one —

She realized with a shock that she hadn't even visited Hagrid outside of his classes at all this year. Making a mental note to do so, she, along with Hermione, Dumbledore, and Newt, made their way into the Chamber. As she expected, there was a gasp when the dead basilisk was shown. Iris was still trying to counter the apparently never-ending Stinging Hex Hermione had used on her. Neither of the adults seemed to offer any help. Newt only had eyes for Jerry, who was laying uptop the dead basilisk proudly, as though he was the one who had slain it.

" _Newt! Newt, you came!_ " the basilisk hissed excitedly as it slithered down from the top of the corpse and to Newt. It began licking Newt up and down.

"I did, Jerry. Oh, it is good to see you!" Newt said happily.

Iris looked back and forth between the two before asking, "Er — you know Parseltongue?"

"Know it?" Newt said. "I can understand most of it, yes, but I can't speak it. I raised Jerry to understand English, so we have no issue communicating."

Iris nodded, and walked up to the state of Slytherin hissing loudly, " _Salazar Slytherin, allow me access to the rooms beyond. Let down a ladder, bend down, do something. Please?_ "

And then, Salazar's tongue began exiting the mouth and lowering itself. After half a minute, the tongue had extended itself to the floor. Ignoring the protests of the other three, Iris stepped onto the tongue and hissed, " _Bring me up_. _Please._ "

The tongue lifted with a jolt, and Iris felt a pair of hands grasp her shoulders. Looking over, she saw that Hermione had hopped on.

Before she could stop herself, Iris whispered to Hermione, "Like having a useful tongue below your hips?"

Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Iris! Did you — you did not — oh my _god_." Hermione's cheeks were gaining color. "How can you be so shameless?"

Without missing a beat, Iris said, "Why, would you like me to teach you?"

Hermione looked as if she was seriously considering pushing Iris off the rising tongue. Her eyes kept darting from Iris to the floor of the Chamber. Iris laughed softly, seeing Hermione's beet red face. She might not want to talk about it, at least not now, but she sure wasn't going to give a chance to tease Hermione.

When they made it up to the top of the statue, they stepped onto the side of the tongue inside the mouth, and Iris hissed, " _Go back down and bring anyone who wishes to come, please._ " Switching back to English, she said, "It's making me say ' _please'_ for all the commands."

"Salazar had manners then."

"You know he'd want you dead, right?"

"Of course he wouldn't, he... he'd just want me out of Hogwarts is all."

By the time Dumbledore had made it up to the open mouth, Iris and Hermione were exploring the room the other basilisk had come from. It was empty. The room behind the other side, however, was not. It led to a hallway, which had two separate doors on each wall. Behind the first one they opened was the bedroom to Salazar Slytherin. They figured it was his bedroom as there was a portrait of the man himself hanging above the fireplace. Iris took down the portrait and carried it with her outside after they had searched the rest of the bedroom. They found Dumbledore walking into the hallway.

"Headmaster, sir, I believe we've just found Salazar Slytherin's portrait. He's sleeping, though," Iris said as she tossed the portrait to Dumbledore, then turned on her heel to explore the rest of the rooms. Hermione gave an exasperated look to Iris's back, an apologetic look to the headmaster — then ran after Iris, curious about what the other rooms held.

One was a mostly empty room with dummies on one end — a dueling chamber. The next was a potions laboratory, which looked exactly like what Iris and Hermione needed to start brewing their Animagus potions. The last room was a library the size of their dormroom. Hermione looked as though she was about to begin drooling. Before she could come to her senses and begin touching books, Dumbledore walked in.

"Do not touch a thing, Miss Granger. These are Salazar Slytherin's books. It's very likely at least a few books are cursed. Remarkable, though," Dumbledore said to himself, looking around. "I think you two deserve two Special Awards to Services to the School for this quite extraordinary discovery. All of this history, locked up all these years. A fine addition to the library, I should say. After these are organized and sent up to the library, I think you, Miss Granger, should have the first — as they say — crack at it, yes? Truly marvelous though. Salazar Slytherin's own library, hidden right beneath the school this entire time, _and_ his portrait too..."

Hermione nodded vigorously while Iris was trying not to laugh at the fact that the Chamber of Secrets, made by a man who left the school out of disgust, was the reason for _both_ of her special awards.

Dumbledore Transfigured a nearby chair into a trunk and then placed what he said was an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. Iris, Hermione, and Dumbledore levitated all of the books into the magically enhanced trunk. When they were nearly finished, but not quite, Iris began to walk around the walls and whisper phrases in Parseltongue, hoping to find another secret. She found none in any of the rooms, and she was just about to give up when she noticed something. At the end of the hall — opposite to the entrance to the hall — the wall looked strangely like a sealed up passageway.

She walked up to it and said in parseltongue, " _Open, reveal your secrets,_ " hoping that either word or phrase would work. It did. The wall's bricks began to work like the entrance to Diagon Alley, each brick slowly pushing itself back and to the side. A voice from behind her caused her to jump in fright.

"Excellent work, my dear girl — so sorry to frighten you. Let us hope this leads us back to the main castle," Dumbledore said, levitating the trunk.

"Uh — Professor Dumbledore? Newt?"

"I'm sure they'll do just fine," Dumbledore said, waving a hand in a dismissive manner.

"But…"

"They've a basilisk they need to tend to. Once they're done, they'll send Jerry up the pipes and he'll command the stairs to show themselves."

"How do you know that, sir?" Iris asked.

"I don't, but it seems like the most logical solution. I'm sure they'll figure it out," Dumbledore said, smiling down at Iris.

Iris wasn't too confident in her nodding along, but only said, "Sir, would it be okay if we used the potions lab down here? Hermione and I are going to be brewing some potions that'll need to be let alone for a few hours, and we'd can't use Myrtle's bathroom anymore."

"I don't see why not," Dumbledore said. " _Anymore_?"

"We brewed Polyjuice Potion in our second — well, _Hermione_ brewed polyjuice in our second year. But every since everyone somehow found out where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is, more people use that bathroom," Iris said.

"Polyjuice, you say?" Dumbledore said, smiling at Hermione, who had gone slightly pale. "Quite complicated for a second year."

"And you'd be completely right," Iris said. "The whole plot was quite complicated — knocking students out, breaking into other common rooms, and —"

"Iris!" Hermione whispered.

"And questioning young Draco Malfoy on if he opened the Chamber of Secrets?" said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling madly.

Iris and Hermione stared at him, their mouths slightly open from surprise. Hermione began stammering, and Iris began wondering just how much the headmaster _really_ knew. Surely not everything? Because if he did, Girl-Who-Lived or not, she was _sure_ she would have been expelled by now. She understood by now that Dumbledore saw her as more than just a student. What more it was, Iris wasn't sure — a granddaughter? A future apprentice? Dumbledore had told her in her first year — after she had asked why Voldemort was after her — that he wanted her to have a childhood.

The way he said it, though… It was almost as if he was expecting her future to — there was no other way to put it — _suck_. Given everything that had happened in the past few months, Iris began to wonder. Had Dumbledore predicted that strange events would happen in the years to come in her first year? Disappearances, dark marks, sinister plots, all predicted by Dumbledore years in advance?

Perhaps.

Did he expect even more to happen? It was the only explanation for his leniency in letting her break the rules. He knew of the 'Polyjuice Potion Plot', or 'Triple P' as they called it whenever they were in public that year.

Then there was the sneaking into Hogsmeade the last two years, and it wasn't on Hogsmeade weekends; she had gotten her permission slip signed by telling Vernon that she'd come back to Privet Drive on Hogsmeade weekends otherwise; Vernon didn't bother to actually read the permission slip; he signed it immediately.

There was, of course, many curfew breaking nights too — he had even nodded to her as he passed her the night before. He didn't even give her a light slap on the wrist. He _nodded_ to her, even smiled slightly! It was almost as if he _wanted_ her to do it, to do what _she_ wanted, rules be damned.

If Hermione could hear her mind, Iris was sure she'd be lectured. It was a dangerous line to walk after all. It was very easy to just accept that Dumbledore wanted her to break the rules. It would be much easier to actually break them and do whatever she wanted — and eventually, she would have crossed that line far more than she should have.

"Iris? Could you open the door?" Dumbledore said.

She looked in front of her and saw a wall, and the stairs she had just climbed behind her while in thought. She commanded the door to open and walked through to find herself before a hall in the dungeons. She remembered walking through the hall once before in her first year, but it had led to an dead end — a blank wall she now knew held a passageway down to the Chamber of Secrets. On the wall just next to the exit was an engraving.

 _Salazar simply spoke sleep, and the snakewood sought to slumber, so should Slytherin's successor seek to slither deep, they must get to the core of this stumper._

 _"_ Er — sir?" Iris asked uncertainly.

"I didn't think Salazar Slytherin was one for riddles," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Come, let us go."

Once everyone was out, she commanded the door to close and waited for it to do so. Once it was fully closed, she hissed, " _Open_."

Nothing happened.

" _Open_ ," she tried again. " _Open back up. I command you to open. Reveal your secrets. Allow me passage. Oh Slytherin, the most strongest of the four founders, open._ " But the door did not open. " _Please?_ " Iris hissed in desperation. She was hoping for an easy way back to that part of the Chamber of Secrets.

But still, the door remained close.

"In Parseltongue, I believe you must say, _basilisk horn_ ," Dumbledore said.

Iris frowned, but did so, and the door opened up again. Iris looked at Dumbledore in bemusement. "How?"

"The wood of Salazar's wand was snakewood, and the _core_ was basilisk horn. The alliteration is there to tell you to say it in Parseltongue, to _hiss_ it."

"I hope you know you just gave me the key to using the Chamber of Secrets for my own shenanigans," Iris said, and Dumbledore smiled at her. "Hermione, do you have the potions book? We might as well start brewing today."

Hermione nodded and pulled out the _Advanced Potion-Making_ book.

"An N.E.W.T. level Potions book?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Yep. And no, you don't want to know what we're doing with this one either. It doesn't involve rule breaking. Or law breaking — I think?" Iris said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "It might be dangerous though. Not because the potions might blow up in our faces — well, that too — but because… actually, don't worry about it. Good day! _Close_!" Iris hissed the last word, and pulled Hermione into the passageway with her as it began to close. Hermione stared at the door after it closed fully before giving a heavy sigh and following Iris down after.

"What is it?" Hermione asked after Iris kept looking at her.

"Nothing. You just didn't get upset at me for pulling that stunt. I was wondering if I had finally _completely_ corrupted you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and asked in a casual tone, "So, did you bring the potions ingredients we'll need?"

Iris stopped.

"Don't worry, I figured you'd pull something like this so I made sure to get them before we even entered the Chamber the first time. I didn't even have to steal anything from Professor Snape," said Hermione. "The potion ingredients were surprisingly common with the exception of one or two. The Animagus Unlocking Potion can be brewed within an hour — I'm doing that one, it's harder to brew than the other one — and the Essence of Nature Potion will take around two hours to brew once we've actually done it a few times. I imagine it'll take three hours or so this first time around. It's pretty simple though. It almost boils down to tossing a lot of natural ingredients into a cauldron and letting it stew. And when I say a lot, I mean _a lot_ , Iris. I filled several jars with ingredients for just the Essence of Nature Potion, but we'll only have enough to brew maybe two for each of us. We'll need more ingredients afterwards."

Iris nodded along throughout Hermione's explanation. She wasn't too worried, nor was she insulted at Hermione brewing the hardest potion. Hermione was without doubt the much better brewer. Iris wasn't as terrible as Snape made her out to be though. Brewing on her own, she was at least average, and she guessed that if she actually cared for the subject, she'd be above average or more. It was only when she had Snape constantly insulting her on top of the Slytherins attempting to ruin her brews that Iris became below average.

Iris and Hermione made their way into Salazar Slytherin's lab and Hermione began to unpack everything she had in her bag. A few minutes later, they had cauldrons set up and the Potions book opened. Iris copied all the instructions to create the Essence of Nature onto another piece of parchment. Writing the instructions down helped her memorize the steps — or so Hermione said.

Iris muttered the ingredients as she wrote them down. "Root of aconite, aconite fluid, root of dandelion, syrup of hellebore, powdered moonstone, powdered porcupine quills, murtlap tentacle, ashwinder egg, unicorn hair, armadillo bile — where the hell did Hermione get unicorn hair?" And so on until Iris had over three dozen ingredients written out. She then wrote out the rest of the steps and began working. She organized the ingredients into alphabetical order by their names, heated up the cauldron after filling it halfway with water, and began tossing the ingredients in — stirring whenever the steps told her to.

After thirty minutes, Iris got to the step which told her to let the potion stew for an hour and a half. Despite not being even halfway done with the potion, Iris was satisfied that the brewing potion was currently the perfect shade of pink. Turning to look at Hermione's three cauldrons, she saw Hermione's bushier-than-usual hair — and realized her own hair had become very wavy and curly in the fumes. Not wanting to even bother, she pointed her wand at her hair and muttered, "Capillum" while somewhat mentally picturing her hair in a bun. Her hair rose and began to tie itself near the top of Iris's head — a terrible, messy bun, however, as Iris was hardly concentrating.

So much had happened in the past two days that she couldn't bring herself to care about the small things anymore. Feeling sticky and a bit sweaty from the fumes, she took off her outer robe and Transfigured her outfit into something a little looser. It was a lazy look, but she didn't care. Her Transfiguration wasn't good enough to be permanent as of yet anyway and not as many boys would ask her for a date whenever she wore joggers and a jumper. Whether it was from the fact she looked more like the criminal the Dursley's made her out to be or because they thought the muggle clothing was strange, Iris didn't know — but again, she didn't care.

It took another thirty minutes for Hermione to finish her potions. She began to slowly tip the cauldron's contents into three large bottles — and before Hermione could even put a cap on the first potion bottle, Iris took one and downed it all.

"And what if that wasn't complete, Iris? What if at its current state, it was poison?"

"Then whoops? It's not though. I trust you. And the final color is supposed to be a light blue and as you can see, it's definitely blue...ish," Iris finished uncertainly. Shrugging, she cleaned the bottle and placed it back on a rack. "Well, drink yours. We'll give Ron his later. C'mon, let's go visit Hagrid. We haven't at all this year — outside his classes, I mean. I feel bad," Iris said, and she meant it. Hagrid might have been a untrustworthy with the secrets and a little careless when it came to dangerous creatures, but he always meant well.

They were long past due for a visit.

* * *

 **1994, November 2, Hagrid's Hut.**

Iris, Ron, and Hermione were waiting outside of Hagrid's hut. All three had taken the Animagus Unlocking Potion and were now waiting for the other potions to finish brewing. Ron had been informed of the Chamber of Secrets, and while he didn't seem too keen on visiting the personal rooms of Slytherin himself, he was still interested in seeing it.

After their visit to Hagrid, Iris would have to work on the potion for another two hours — not something she was looking forward to.

The door swung open.

"'Bout time! Any longer 'n I woulda assumed you lot had forgo'en where I lived!" Hagrid said, staring down at the three of them.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Iris said earnestly. "We've been incredibly busy. Moody has been making us go through our first two years in Defense in two months — it's all done now of course, but it was exhausting. And then there was the tournament stuff. I'll make it up to you by visiting every day if I can."

Hagrid beamed down at her. "Oh, you know I was jus' kiddin' Iris. Now, I don' wan' to see you here every day, yer hear? Focus on the tournamen' because… well… you'll need it, Iris. But don' worry, I've got a part in it, n' trus' me, you can do it. I know yeh can. Say, Iris, speakin' of, have you — er — got tha' flute I gave you yer firs' year here?" Hagrid said, shifting uncomfortably as he sat down in his chair.

Iris tilted her head at Hagrid at the sudden change in topic. "Uh, yeah, I do. It's in my trunk at school."

"Good, good," Hagrid said, not looking Iris in the eye. "It migh' be a good idea to bring it to the firs' task, me flute. Give yer some… yer know… motivation..."

"Hagrid, what are you going on about?" asked Ron.

"Fluffy…" Iris whispered in realization. Hagrid's determination to look everywhere but in Iris's direction confirmed her guess. "Fluffy's going to be involved in the first task, isn't he?"

"Now now, I didn' say that!" Hagrid said in a panicked tone.

"But you implied it," said Ron.

"Hagrid…" Hermione started. "There's no way it would _just_ be Fluffy. I know you'd never give him up to duel the champions to the death, and you only have one three-headed dog —"

"Or so I hope," interrupted Iris.

"So that means if the first champion killed Fluffy, the rest wouldn't have anything. That means the task involves getting past Fluffy. But that in itself isn't much excitement on its own," Hermione said.

Hagrid was sweating profusely. "Jus' bring yer flute, tha's all I'm sayin' 'n nothin' more —"

"I'm not going to have to battle a three-headed dog and a dragon, am I?" Iris asked.

Hagrid suddenly jumped up, wide eyed, and quickly walked out of the hut without responding. Iris stared at Hagrid's back, attempting to keep her breathing even.

After a moment, she spoke, "Hermione, I need to master the Summoning Charm."

Hermione frowned at the sudden turn of conversation. "Why?"

"Because I'm not battling a damn three-headed dog named Fluffy, that's why. I can only take a few things in the first task so I'll need to find a way to get the flute into wherever I am. One of you can have it on you when I go up against Fluffy. Hagrid all but confirmed that dragons are involved, so we need to start on the shield charms immediately — and anything else that could help me —"

"A Shield Charm?" asked Ron. "Against a dragon? Bloody hell, Iris, not even Charlie can throw up a strong enough shield to stop dragonfire."

Iris stared at him. "It's not impossible. I already read about one capable of stopping dragonfire, _Praesidio Incaendium_."

Hermione frowned again. "I haven't heard of that spell, but we'll take a look."

Ron sighed. "Your life is far too complicated, Iris. Good fun, though."

The three got up and walked out of Hagrid's hut. Out of the corners of their eyes, they saw Hagrid carrying something long and a blast of flames. Iris snapped her head to it, and flicked her wrist. Her wand came speeding out of her holster — and straight into the dirt. She hadn't been able to catch it in time, but she wasn't paying attention to that. For a second, she was certain that the first task had just started and she would have to defend herself against a battle-axe wielding Hagrid on a raging dragon. Instead, it seemed that Hagrid was tending to _something_ — it looked like a mix between a scorpion and a dog sized crab. Fire streamed from the thing's scorpion-like tail as Hagrid tried to guide them into a corner with a long metal pole.

"What the _fuck_ , Hagrid?" Iris muttered under her breath as she turned to walk away.

The three made their way back into the castle and down to the Chamber of Secrets — specifically the potions lab. Iris finished up the Essence of Nature potions with the help of Hermione. It took them another thirty minutes to complete the potions and bottle them up. Hermione noted that they'd be able to do the first part within fifteen minutes soon, let it simmer for an hour and a half, and then return to finish it in another fifteen minutes.

Then they decided to start Iris's training. They started with the Summoning Charm again, like Iris had asked. To keep the repetitiveness down, Iris began practicing the Dragonfire Shield Charm, or _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_. Hermione went to get more ingredients to brew more potions while Iris continued her spell casting.

When Ron became bored, he and Iris played a game of chess, where Iris only used the Banishing and Summoning Charm to move her pieces. By the end of the game, she was able to Summon any piece however far she wanted — but she still seemed to sometimes accidentally blow the entire board up with her Banishing Charms. By the end of the night, Iris could Summon the flute to her easily. The heavier objects such as chairs or heavy cauldrons, however, were tougher. Iris insisted she only needed the flute, but Hermione refused to listen — Iris would be mastering the Summoning Charm and that was that.

She made no progress, however, on the Dragonfire Shield Charm. No matter what she did, she was simply unable to produce any shield larger than the size of a galleon — and Iris seriously doubted a shield no larger than her hand would stop dragonfire from turning her into ash. Then again, she didn't know much about dragons. Maybe their fire came out as thin as quill? Iris told herself this to calm herself enough to be able to fall asleep once the trio was done for the day.

The next week hardly differed. The three would go to class, go down to Chamber to start brewing, visit Hagrid while the potions simmered, come back and finish the potions, then help Iris train. Ron only came a few times, but Hermione stuck with Iris the entire time, something Iris was thankful for.

Iris and Hermione had even redecorated parts of the Chamber to give it a bit more color and life. No longer were certain rooms a depressing grey and green; it now had red and gold banners hanging on the walls over the green, and Hermione had charmed the furniture to livelier colors. By the time they were done, the living room almost looked like a larger Gryffindor common room, and the potions lab was no longer incredibly dirty, damp, and depressing.

During the week, Iris had learned that the rest of the school was rather confused as to what they should feel when it came to her. The Slytherins were worse than ever thanks to Iris being a champion. She had to start walking through the halls with her wand out or under her Invisibility Cloak. What she had done to Millicent Bulstrode didn't help matters.. Iris did feel a bit guilty over the things she had said after she had cooled down, but she didn't see herself apologizing anytime soon. Millicent had started it, and while Iris didn't appreciate being a bit of a bully, she wouldn't have done those things otherwise.

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seemed unsure as to how to treat Iris. Most of them called her a cheat, but very few of them seemed to take it hard over the fact that she was overshadowing the other Hogwarts champion. Gryffindor stood by her for the most part. A few still muttered under their breath when she was near.

As for the professors, not much changed — although, Iris felt that Snape had become crueler than ever. After a small and quick duel between Iris and Draco Malfoy in a corridor, Hermione ended up with teeth that ran down to her chest. Snape had said there was no difference. Iris had to stop herself from performing the Cruciatus Curse right then and there.

She and Snape constantly insulted and humiliated each other, but it had always felt like some silent mutual agreement; Snape would try his hardest to humiliate and insult Iris, and Iris would do the same. To see him say something so horrible to Hermione had made Iris furious, and every time Iris saw Snape in the halls from that point on, she would either curse him in numerous ways. Some students began to wonder why they'd hear someone screaming "POTTER!" every now and then. Iris claimed innocence throughout it all and would even say she was nowhere near the incident and could therefore not hear Snape yelling about detentions.

It was on the eighth of November, in Potions, that Iris thought she had gone too far in her cursing of Snape. He had finally snapped and was ready to, at last, kill her.

He had been angering Iris all class. He insulted her and her father nearly every other minute. The Slytherins were once again attempting to ruin her potion, and Snape didn't bother doing anything about it. He only looked on with a small smirk every time he looked up and caught them doing it.

Eventually, the Slytherins realized that Snape didn't care, and so they began messing with Iris even more. When her potion finally became ruined, thanks to all the thrown ingredients, Snape rounded on her to insult her intelligence yet again. Iris attempted to control her breathing, but it wasn't working.

Just as Iris was about to snap at Malfoy for chucking something at the back of her head —

"Potter, you'll be testing out Longbottom's antidote at the end of class," Snape sneered. "If he brewed it correctly, you'll have no problem."

Iris knew that Neville had definitely _not_ brewed it correctly. She had seen the Slytherins tossing ingredients into his cauldron. She looked back at Snape with an open mouth, pleading with her eyes that she understood, that she wouldn't mess with him anymore, that she really was an arrogant worthless disappointment — anything to make him back off. She really wouldn't have put it past him to forcefully shove the poison down her throat if she outright refused. Maybe she was being a bit dramatic, but it didn't matter — she was saved by Colin Creevy.

The wand-weighing ceremony. That was what had saved her. How absurd. They were going to have a ceremony where they weighed her wand? She had to be wrong — despite all of the wizarding world's oddities, surely this wouldn't be what she thought it was.

It wasn't. Not even remotely. Iris felt stupid as she was told just what the 'ceremony' was. She did, however, feel justified in being as late as she possibly could have been. Dumbledore, Ollivander, Bagman, Crouch, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, the other three champions, and a few others she didn't recognize were there as Iris stepped into the classroom. She ignored Karkaroff complaining about her tardiness. Ollivander went through the wands of the other three champions — Iris barely paid attention, she was still angry about Snape's class — and then he came to her.

"Ah, Miss Potter… How I remember _your_ wand. Most curious, it was, was it not?" Ollivander asked, raising his bushy eyebrows and smiling mysteriously.

"No, it was not curious," Iris said, a warning in her voice.

"Oh, but it was. For the phoenix who gave you your feather also gave —"

"Also gave my ancestor one, yeah — whatever. Can we get this farce over with so I can go and do something a little more fulfilling than bending over backwards for this disaster of a tournament?" Iris said irritably. Why the hell was Ollivander trying to tell people of yet _another_ connection of hers to Voldemort? She had half a mind to snap her wand right in front of Ollivander and shove the pieces up his —

"Miss Potter..." Dumbledore said.

"Indeed, Iris?" came a voice from behind her, and Iris turned. Through all the indignant and shocked faces, she saw a blonde with a ridiculous hairstyle in a yellow shirt and white skirt, who was smiling at her sweetly. She wore enough yellow to put Dumbledore to shame. Her nametag said, ' _Rita_ _Skeeter_ ,' and Iris remembered what Hermione had said about her articles. She had written the one about Arthur Weasley, and it was cruel beyond words. Iris's temper rose at the thought of the article and only continued rising when she said, "Do you mind if you expand on what you mean — perhaps over here, in the cupboard?"

Iris raised an eyebrow.

Cupboard? Fuck that. If she had it her way, she'd never set foot in another cupboard again.

"Sorry, I like my girls less than twice my age, but I'm sure Miss Delacour here will take you up on your offer," Iris said. She almost widened her eyes in horror as she realized what she had said, but she noticed everybody took her comment about liking girls purely as a joke — except Rita Skeeter, whose smile widened as her eyes grew colder. Surprisingly, Fleur Delacour didn't look upset. She merely looked up and down at Rita Skeeter, raised an eyebrow at Iris, and snorted. Bagman looked as strangely nervous as the last time she had begun to insult people.

"Now now, no need for insults. We could do the interview over here if you'd like?" She looked to the corner of the classroom.

"Sure, why not?" Iris said, wanting to get it over with. If she said no, she'd likely make up an interview.

"Well then, okay," Rita Skeeter said. "I'll just ask you questions and if you could do your best to answer them, that would be _fantastic_."

Iris looked at her, unimpressed. "I'm familiar with how interviews work, thanks."

"Oh?" Rita Skeeter said, sounding very interested now. "Have you had many interviews before?"

"No. I just don't live under a rock. Judging by your fashion sense, however, that can only be said for one of —"

"Tell me, Iris," Rita Skeeter interrupted, smiling sweetly, "how do you feel being the youngest champion? You must feel nervous about the tasks ahead. Just how terrified are you? With so much less experience than the others, what did you expect to gain from entering yourself in this tournament? More attention? Do you really have such a need to prove yourself?"

Iris's eye twitched. "I feel _fine._ As I didn't enter myself in the tournament, your other questions should be directed elsewhere, the last two, perhaps, towards yourself."

"Can you remember your parents at all?"

" _What_ _?_ " Iris said through gritted teeth. "Planning on writing a pity story, are you?"

"Oh, _no_ , not at all," Rita Skeeter said sweetly. "So, Iris, _if_ they were alive, what would your parents say to —"

"Alright, listen, you dried up old banana," Iris said in a raised voice, her fists clenched. Why — just why — did she always get these idiots? Iris heard Fleur give a small and quick laugh at the insult, and although his face showed almost all signs of a reprimand, Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. Iris took in a deep breath. "I feel just fine being the youngest champion. No, I don't feel nervous about the tasks ahead. At all. I didn't put my name into the tournament. Somebody else did it, most likely to get me killed in an innocent looking manner. And no, that line of thought is not ridiculous. My first Defense teacher tried to outright kill me, and the second tried to Memory Charm me to the point of me becoming almost as mindless as you. And if you ask me any more stupid questions, Professor Moody will mistake me for a banshee and that'll be another Defense teacher trying to kill me.

"I plan on winning this tournament, even if it's purely out of spite for vultures like you. And yes, you're a vulture. I saw what you wrote about Arthur Weasley, and had he not said anything at all, you would have made up something anyway. So why assassinate his character for saying what he had to? As for what my parents would say, they'd say you can go fuck yourself for bringing them up," Iris said. She took a deep breath, then shot a ball of fire from her wand at the paper that was writing what Iris had seen to be complete and total lies.

She walked out of the classroom, ignoring Rita Skeeter's sputtering.

She heard Dumbledore sigh and say, "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for the language, Miss Potter..."

Iris was irritated as all hell. _Screw_ _this whole tournament, screw it all._ They dragged her here to see if her wand was okay? Why the hell wouldn't it be okay? Then Ollivander has the nerve to start spouting out irrelevant things about her wand, in front of Rita Skeeter no less. And _Rita Skeeter_ , oh, she was a cunt. A new breed of vulture, one she'd have to tell Newt about so he could update his book. First she completely slanders Mr. Weasley, a man who she viewed as a father figure, and then she had the nerve to ask those ridiculous questions? She _hated_ people bringing up her parents in an attempt to make her look bad. Hermione had shown her plenty of her other articles too.

She realized her actions would come back to haunt her and she silently cursed herself for losing her temper _again_.

It had to be Fleur. Instead of making her drool like the boys did, her veela nature would just anger her — there was no other explanation. _No_ , she was wrong. Snape. _Snape_ had already infuriated her in class. She was on the verge of snapping by the time she had left his class, of course Rita would push her to —

"Iris?" said a voice from behind her. Iris turned around — and speak of the devil. It was Fleur.

"What?" Iris snapped. "Come to tell me how little I am again? Go away, I _don't_ _care_."

"No," Fleur said, almost lazily, but Iris had already begun walking away. "I wanted to apologize…" Fleur muttered, scratching her head, but Iris was too far to hear.


	5. Mirror, Mirror, Beetle on the Wall

**Author's Notes:**

One of the biggest reason I try and include an A/N in every chapter is because the whole Prev [Chapter 5] Next thing pushes the first line of text to the left, which makes the 'Chapter 5' line off center. It's one of those stupid things that annoys me greatly.

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 **Mirror, Mirror, Beetle on the Wall**

 **1994, November 12, Great Hall.**

Iris smoothed out the letter on top of the mirror and began reading.

 _Daughter of Prongs_

 _Destroy this letter once you're finished. I can't say much. I shouldn't say much. I've included a mirror with this letter. It's charmed to be able to communicate with my mirror. Simply say "Padfoot" and push a bit of magic into it with your wand (or your finger if you can do that). If the small rune on the bottom of the mirror glows, it's working and it's calling me. I picked these up while I was staying in Britain. The one you're holding was your father's. Don't call now. Call me sometime in the night on November 12th. If you can't make it, the next night. Make sure you're only with people you trust. This will be a much easier way to talk._

 _Please be careful. I know we've talked about the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins and the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup, but I've been getting whispers of more. More disappearances, more strange tidings, and it's worrying me. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And don't do anything I would do. You know what I mean. Just be safe. Don't let yourself be alone with either Krum, Karkaroff, or Warrington. I'll explain on the 12th - when this letter should reach you, hopefully. It takes a couple of days for my letters to get to Britain. Again, destroy this letter. I know I'm being paranoid, but I don't care. No one except the people you trust most should know about the mirror._

 _Stay safe and don't get yourself killed,_

 _Snuffles_

Iris set fire to the letter and envelope under the table after she was done reading it. The ashes disappeared after a moment, most likely due to the work of a house-elf. She stared down at her plate and moved the food around with her fork, no longer feeling hungry. Whispers of more? More disappearances, and strange _tidings_?

For a second, Iris wondered why Sirius's vocabulary was suddenly sent back two centuries — but what strange news did he hear? If there was anything she was truly frightened of, it was the unknown. Sure, basilisks and dementors also scared her, but at least she knew what was happening when she was attacked by them. She knew how to handle them. The ominous tone of Sirius's letter put her on edge. She took a bite of toast, as that was all her stomach seemed to want at the moment.

A drawling voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Goodness Granger, any more books and your arms might fall off," Malfoy shouted to Hermione, who had just walked into the Great Hall carrying five thick books.

"Reading might do you some good, Malfoy," Hermione replied. "Might kickstart your brain into actually working."

Malfoy snorted. "Please, given how much you read, I'm surprised your brain hasn't exploded. You know… even if it did, I bet your hair would still look the same."

"So would yours, given how miniscule the explosion would be," Hermione said, not bothering to look at Malfoy's quickly reddening face.

Iris choked on her toast with several other people as the majority of the Great Hall began to snicker. Hermione set her books onto the seat and sat down beside them, looking smug.

"Think you're the only witty one?" Hermione asked playfully. "What's that?"

Iris leaned over to Hermione and whispered, "A mirror. Snuffles said we can communicate through it."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to ask a question but shut it as Iris quickly shook her head and mouthed that she'd explain later. Ron came into the Great Hall a minute later and sat down, and the trio chatted while the rest of the owls delivered their mail.

"Yes!" Cormac McLaggen suddenly shouted as he looked up from the _Daily_ _Prophet_ and directly at Iris. "This is the Potter I've been waiting to see! Not the moody, woe is me ' _I'm not a real champion_ ' Iris, but the ' _fuck_ _everyone_ , _I'm_ _winning_ _this_ _shit_ ' Iris!" He ignored the scolding from the staff for his language. McLaggen obviously didn't give a shit about the week's worth of detention he had just received, as he kept going. "Not the shy, unforthcoming Iris, but the fuckin' basilisk slaying, dementor repelling, acromantula escaping Iris!"

Iris stared at him open-mouthed as he grinned stupidly back at her. She gave a slow single nod and turned to look for someone nearby who had the _Daily_ _Prophet_ , while also silently cursing Hermione and Ron's name for letting the dementor and acromantula stories get out. She snatched a copy of the newspaper out of the hands of Ginny, who turned to glare at her.

"Iris…" she said slowly.

"Ginny… Didn't know you were the passionate name moaning type," Iris said, still looking through the newspaper and not seeing Ginny's heavy blush.

* * *

 _ **The Four Champions and What They Have to Say**_

 _Written by Rita Skeeter_

 _Many of you are undoubtedly curious about the four champions of the Triwizard Tournament, who they are, what they're like, how they're doing, and what they want you all to know._

 _Iris Vivienne Potter, Girl Who Lived, fourth champion, daughter of James and Lily Potter, only survivor of the Killing Curse, and… attention seeking glory hound? Perhaps. We'll let you decide._

 _Your fellow reporter asked Iris Potter a few simple questions about how she felt about being the fourth champion, if she was scared, why she felt the need to put her name into the Goblet of Fire, how she expected to win with so little experience, and the like. Here's what Iris Potter had to say:_

 _"I'm going to win. I'm fine with being the youngest champion, and I definitely don't feel nervous about the oncoming tasks. What's there to be nervous about? Cassius Warrington is a Slytherin," Potter spat the name and continued with: "Fleur Delacour is only eye candy." Potter did not deem Viktor Krum worthy of even a mention, apparently. "As for the Goblet, I didn't put my name into the Goblet of Fire. Somebody is attempting to kill me."_

 _Potter explained all the times his past Defense Against the Dark Arts professors attempted to kill her. I found Remus Lupin (werewolf) the most interesting. Apparently, Iris Potter had a run-in with Remus Lupin last year. The Professor forgot his Wolfsbane Potion and was out and about on the full moon! Young Iris refused to speak on this matter, but your reporter has found out that Remus Lupin had almost killed not only Iris Potter but prodigious muggleborn Hermione Granger. This was the same night the dementors nearly sucked out the soul of young Iris, the reason Minister Fudge pulled the dementors from Hogwarts. Apparently, an incredibly powerful Patronus, a doe, had sent the dementors away. Over a hundred dementors, and all repelled by one single person!_

 _Rumor was that Iris Potter herself cast the Patronus, but the details are suspicious. At the age of thirteen, a full Patronus capable of sending off a hundred dementors? Nonsense, I say. Was the rumor spread by Iris Potter herself, a cry for attention perhaps?_

 _Could Albus Dumbledore (see page 4 for reasons why Dumbledore has gone senile) have even done that at that age? An unnamed source says Iris Potter made the whole thing up, that Severus Snape (whose Patronus is a doe, coincidentally) was really the one to do it. I've asked Professor Snape, a modest and humble man, but he's denied that he had any part in chasing away the dementors of that night. Iris Potter also had this to say:_

 _"I plan on winning this tournament, and I'm going to do it purely out of spite. As for what my parents would say, I think they'd be very proud of me."_

 _Proud? Professor Snape has said that James Potter was an attention seeking bully, and that his daughter is the same way. Does this almost confirm that Iris Potter really did put her name into the Goblet of Fire? If she can produce a corporeal Patronus capable of sending off a hundred dementors, why wouldn't she able to trick the Goblet into selecting her as well? If she did indeed lie about being able to cast a Patronus, one must ask themselves why somebody with so much fame wants even more._

 _The other three champions were much more..._

* * *

The article went on to actually talk about the other champions _a little bit_ after that, but Iris didn't bother reading it. There was no doubt in her mind that Rita Skeeter purposely made the first part of the article about her. It would turn the other champions against her.

 _Rita Skeeter: 1 —_ _Iris Potter: 0_

She set down the paper and gave a heavy sigh. Her actions had come to bite her in the ass, just as she thought they would. She couldn't even bring herself to be that angry with the paper. Sure, Rita Skeeter would have most likely lied about what she said anyway, but Iris seriously doubted it would have been this bad.

'The _Four_ Champions' and the article goes on to talk about her for the majority of it. No doubt the Slytherins would become even worse; no doubt Fleur would hate her even more; no doubt Krum would — well, Krum would just brood silently. _Karkaroff_ would spout more hate. They were all there and heard what she _really_ said to Rita Skeeter, but the article nonetheless mostly focused on her. She was the reason for the other champions not getting any attention.

And what of the rest of the article? How did she find out about her Patronus? She had only produced a full — corporeal? — Patronus three times in her life. Once by the lake with the dementors, once the day after, to make sure she could do it again, and in the antechamber to shut Fleur up. She supposed somebody who was in the antechamber that day talked about it. Maybe Snape said more than just the bit about her being an arrogant brat. He most likely told Rita Skeeter of all her 'rule breaking' — but she had pissed off Rita only yesterday. Surely she didn't get an interview out of Snape and write out the article so quickly that it arrived in the _Prophet_ this morning?

Iris also wondered about Snape's Patronus. She didn't take a doe to be an ugly, bitter, angry, and greasy animal. Then how did...

An image of Snape pining for her mother came up in her mind but Iris quickly squashed it down. _That_ would be ridiculous.

"Are you done yet?" asked Ginny. "And why do you look like you've ate something — oh no, have Fred and George put something in the food again?"

"No, I was just picturing something unpleasant," Iris said.

"Well, picture something pleasant then and give me back the paper, will you?" Ginny said irritably.

"Why picture it when she's sitting right in front of me?" Iris said, grinning.

"Will you stop flirting with me!" she whispered, her neck reddening.

"Will you stop blushing every time you talk to me?" Iris asked.

Ginny blushed again. "I — that's not fair."

"Say it with me, Ginny. The — books — about — me — aren't — real," Iris said.

"I know that! Just shut up, will you?" Ginny said, then turned back to her food, her face as red as the strawberries on her plate.

Iris turned back to the paper, but saw Hermione staring at her from the corner of her eye.

"Shut up, Hermione."

"I didn't say anything," Hermione said, smiling innocently, then she saw the article detailing what Iris had said. "Iris, tell me these are more lies. You complained to me, just last night, about letting your anger get the best of you and telling the others you were going to win, knowing it wasn't likely. Why would you —"

"Because I'm an idiot," Iris said, jamming her food with her fork. "Not all of it is true. Obviously I didn't say those things about the other champions. Think it? Maybe, but not say it. Though, I did imply something about Fleur. The part about me saying I was going to win was true too. Perhaps I should start on that Occlumency thing."

"Or you could just think before you blurt things out."

"Yeah, yeah," Iris grumbled.

"So some of this was the truth? The article, I mean?"

"Well, she omitted some parts too."

"Such as?"

"Like when I called her a dried up old banana."

Ron snorted and Hermione couldn't stop the giggle from coming out of her.

"She was wearing too much damn yellow, it was ridiculous," Iris said.

" _You're_ ridiculous," Hermione said, still smiling. "We can start the meditation today by the way. Maybe somewhere outside of Hogsmeade."

"You know, I'm already regretting this whole Animagus thing," said Ron. "I wouldn't even know where to begin with meditation. And I'd look like a fool doing it."

"That's what the potions are for, and you wouldn't look like a fool. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous," Ron said indignantly. "Sitting there with my legs crossed, hands forming weird symbols — no thank you."

"You don't have to do that ridiculous pose, Ron!"

"Hey Ginny, is 'ridiculous' beginning to sound like a made-up word to you too?" Iris whispered. She rolled her eyes as a blush was the only response she got. Iris zoned out the argument Hermione and Ron had gotten into and began skimming the titles of the _Daily_ _Prophet_ articles, reading any of them she found interesting. Unfortunately, she had to fight the impulse to slam her head on the table as she read. She stopped reading most articles a sentence or two in.

 _ **Triwizard Tournament History!**_

 _Read about the history of the Triwizard Tournament, some of the previous tasks, the deaths, all the good exciting stuff! As you all..._

 _ **Disorderly dementors?**_

 _The dementors at the British wizarding prison, Azkaban, seem to be growing unruly. Several reports have been made of them becoming restless (not that dementors sleep or really rest at all). Minister Fudge claims that all is well and that the dementors are simply upset that they haven't caught Sirius Black yet, and that…_

 _ **Potion Waste: The Facts!**_

 _Don't waste all those potion ingredients! Even the scraps and bits can be useful, says…_

 _ **Where is Bertha Jorkins?**_

 _Bertha Jorkins, where is she? She's disappeared! Left on purpose or kidnapped? If you've seen her, please contact us at…_

 _ **Muggles Baffled at Murders! Dark Magic?**_

 _Police, or muggle Aurors, have found a family of muggles murdered in their homes. Nothing unusual when it comes to muggles, we assure you, but the way they died certainly is. Their blood seems to have boiled from inside them. A Blood-Boiling Curse, perhaps? Obliviators have been dispatched and…_

 _ **What's Dumbledore Hiding?**_

" _Muggles slaves, I tell you!" claims Demetri Ratoskiv from the Russian Ministry of…_

 _ **Stylist Wizard of the Month!**_

 _ **Stylist Witch of the Month!**_

 _ **Strange Mist Falls Over Bar Harbor, MACUSA Mystified**_

 _ **Goblins Demand What?!**_

 _ **Sirius Black Still Loose**_

 _Sirius Black, mass murderer and complete madman, is…_

 _ **Wages for House-Elves?**_

 _ **How Will Iris Potter Fare in the Coming Tasks?**_

 _Iris Potter, bumbling idiot and Girl Who Lived, will most likely die in the coming tasks of the..._

 _ **Who Could Have Really Been Behind the Dark Mark?**_

 _ **Failed Break-In Attempt at Gringotts!**_

 _ **Is Muggle Literature Worth Reading?**_

 _ **Strange Behavior From Barty Crouch?**_

 _Multiple witnesses have claimed to see strange behavior from Barty Crouch. Has the man finally begun to lose his mind after the death of his family all those years ago? From freeing his house-elf to mysterious disappearances, to growing paranoia (no longer eating or drinking anything anyone else has prepared for him), one must ask themselves if Barty Crouch has finally lost it. Some are saying his behavior is becoming a lot like that of "Mad-Eye" Moody..._

"No bloody wonder," Iris muttered under her breath.

"Hmm?" asked Hermione.

"Whoever reads this steaming pile of shit deserves to be lied to. Honestly, I might be a bumbling idiot from time to time, but Dumbledore keeping muggle slaves in his dungeon? Deaths in the tournament being _exciting stuff_? Snape, a modest and humble man?" Iris said, looking at the newspaper as though it really was a steaming pile of shit.

"That's why I don't bother reading that rubbish," Hermione said sniffily. "Only when it comes to the _Daily_ _Prophet_ will you hear me say that ignorance is bliss."

"It's just no wonder the wizarding world is full of morons if this is their main source of information. Whatever, you two ready for Hogsmeade?"

* * *

 **The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade.**

Iris, Hermione, and Ron were sitting in a corner at the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeer and discussing ways they could improve Salazar Slytherin's private rooms even more. Ron suggested more red, to match up with the Gryffindor tower even more. Hermione only wanted the books back down there, where only she could read them.

Iris was thinking about bringing down most of the walls, so the library and bedroom would be all one large living room, connected to the potions lab. She was also attempting to teach Hermione and Ron how to say ' _basilisk Horn_ ' in Parseltongue. So far, they were only able to say the first word.

It was as the other two were hissing to themselves, a scene that would no doubt look a bit baffling to the average onlooker, that Iris saw Daphne Greengrass walk in with Tracey Davis. She noticed that neither of the two were wearing the badges Draco Malfoy had made over a week ago. _'Support the REAL Hogwarts Champion_ ', it said, and then it would switch to ' _Potter Stinks!'_

Iris thought it was an incredibly lackluster insult, but she was nonetheless pleased to see the girl she couldn't stop staring at not wearing one.

"You're staring, Iris," came a voice from her left, and Iris turned her head to see Hermione looking at her with a small smile on her lips. Ron was still hissing to himself, not realizing that it was pointless as Iris wasn't paying attention to tell him if he was correct or not.

"Bugger off, I'll stare all I want."

"It's creepy," Hermione said in a singsong voice.

"Creepy?" said Ron, who had finally stopped hissing as the people closest to him began to look at him weirdly. "What's creepy is the two of us hissing to ourselves like a bunch of lunatics. Can't I just summon a snake and tell it to open the bloody thing for me?"

"Not unless you want to put it under the Imperius Curse," said Iris. "I don't even know if that would work though."

"I reckon it's worth the risk of life in Azkaban, don't you?" said Ron, spreading his arms across the back of the bench.

Before Hermione could say anything, Iris jumped in with, "Yeah, but if you're going to be thrown into Azkaban for life anyway, you might as well break any other laws you can. I'd definitely throw the Cruciatus Curse on Snape… Malfoy too, to be honest."

"What is wrong with you two?" Hermione muttered when she saw Ron nodding vigorously along. "You wouldn't go to Azkaban for casting an Unforgivable on a snake."

"I'd probably break into Gringotts just for the hell of it, maybe to ride those carts the way _I_ want," Iris added.

"You're mad if you'd try to break into Gringotts. You'd get caught out instantly, and then your reign of law-breaking would end prematurely," Ron said.

"I'll tell you what would end prematurely," Iris said, looking pointedly at Ron, whose eyes widened and cheeks turned red.

"And the way _you_ want when it comes to riding those carts would lead to your death anyway," Hermione added, pretending to ignore what Iris had just said.

"You two suck, quit ruining my fun," Iris said, pouting mockingly. "If a friend wants to break into Gringotts, you support them!"

But Hermione and Ron weren't playing along anymore, they were staring past Iris with pale faces.

"Excuse me?" came a steely voice from Iris's right. She turned her head around and saw five goblins glaring at her.

"You're excused," she said, taking another drink of her butterbeer. She heard Hermione suck in a breath and saw Ron staring wide-eyed at her.

"Iris!" he whispered. "What the hell? Goblins, they… well, they don't —"

"Don't _appreciate_ humans talking about breaking into our bank," snarled one of the Goblins.

Iris sighed. She didn't want to be a bigot — she really didn't, but out of the four — now nine — goblins she had actually interacted with, every single one of them was an asshole. "Look," she said, "It was a joke. I wasn't really talking about breaking into your stupid bank."

The goblins bared their teeth and one sneered at her, "We don't want your excuses, _human_."

"What you _don't want_ is to be responsible for starting another war because you decided to harass Iris Potter," Iris said harshly. She looked back at the goblins, who began to squirm at the mention of who she was. "So do my eyes a favor and fuck off, you bunch of humorless overdeveloped abortions. I just recently fixed them and I'd rather not have to do it again."

The entire inn seemed to be quiet now, and Iris felt dozens of eyes on her. She took another sip of her butterbeer and pretended nothing was wrong, ignoring Ron and Hermione who were staring at Iris in horror. She didn't care; every single time she had talked to a goblin in the past, they had tried to swindle her out of her galleons or simply insult her.

They treated each other unpleasantly, maybe she should do the same.

She let out a sigh of frustration at seeing the goblins still standing there in the corner of her eye. She turned to look at them and saw they were all grinning, their zipper-like teeth showing. Iris raised an eyebrow and flicked her wand out from beneath the table. She grimaced when she once again failed to grab it in time. She heard it hit Ron in one of his legs.

"Impressive," one of them said, still grinning. "It's usually creature, vermin, or beast. Worry not human, we know you could never break into our bank," then the goblins sat down at the table next to a bewildered Iris. She looked back to Ron and Hermione and saw they were just as surprised.

"Sounds awfully like a challenge," Iris said casually, and the goblins all stiffened. Iris smirked at them.

One of the goblins leaned over to Iris. "We like to frighten the ones that look weak. It's most entertaining to watch the small ones cower." The goblin grinned maliciously before turned back to his table.

Iris laughed. "You're like four feet tall, you can't intimidate anyone."

The goblin snarled at her. "And your parents are four feet deep, you orphan cunt."

Iris stared, gobsmacked, at the goblin. She didn't know whether to be upset or impressed. When the goblin saw she couldn't respond, he grinned maliciously and turned back to his group.

"Iris, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Hermione said.

Iris turned around to stare open mouthed at Hermione.

"Honestly! You complained just today about how you can't shut up when the time is right and now —"

"Did you just hear what that little shit said to me? This is different, every goblin I've met has been a git."

"I won't disagree with any of that," muttered Ron.

Hermione shot him a glare. "It doesn't matter. Rita Skeeter's most likely not done with you. She'll likely insult you with every task that comes around. If we were alone, I'd say tear into them all day if you want, but we're not. The entire inn heard what you had to say. They likely didn't hear anything before the part where you called them a you-know-what! Honestly, could you be any more offensive? Vulgar? Distasteful? They're all going to assume you started to insult a group of goblins for no reason whatsoever. Not only that, but you threw your fame into the mix as well — now they're going to assume Rita Skeeter was right in you relishing in your fame!" Hermione exclaimed in exasperation, all while attempting to bat away a flying beetle.

Iris grimaced. "Oh."

"Oh? You're an idiot. Shut up, just shut up, Iris. From now on, you're going to learn when to shut up. This isn't an argument you're going to win, so keep quiet. Swallow the witty reply and swallow your pride," Hermione said, and she ignored Iris's mutters about what she, Hermione, could swallow instead. "Where did you even come up with that insult?"

Iris shrugged. "It just comes to me. Vernon was always saying things like that, guess it rubbed off on me."

"How often did he say things like that?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Pretty much all the time," said Iris. "They were mostly aimed at me though. He got disturbingly creative with them — once told me I should have been swallowed. I was eight. Had no idea what it meant at the time, of course."

Hermione stared in horror at Iris, who smiled sadly.

"And that was honestly mild," Iris continued. "He called me a poster child for abortion just last year. And he's _nothing_ compared to Aunt Marge. I'm still hoping she has a heart attack during one of her games of charades with Dudley." She sighed. "S'ppose I shouldn't stoop to his level of insults, but really, I spent ten years around a man who dropped a curse word in almost every sentence. It's rubbed off on me."

"It's been a lot worse this year — your mouth, that is," Hermione pointed out.

"Because everything else has been a lot worse. Sirius was supposed to become free last year, but Pettigrew escaped at the last second to go and join Voldemort again. And now? That prophecy Trelawny gave about Pettigrew rejoining the Dark Lord? The Dark Mark, the disappearances, my name coming out of the Goblet, and I've told you about Sirius's letter — I'm on edge, Hermione.

"Hagrid himself said it, didn't he? Things always seem to happen to me. Even Dumbledore's worried. No, don't interrupt," Iris said, holding up her hand as she saw Hermione open her mouth. "I know Dumbledore more than you. I know when he's just cheerful and when he's faking it. I talked about this in the common room like two weeks ago. I'll still try to control myself when I should, but don't expect me to suddenly go back to first year Iris. I _won't_. I spent a decade being the good little silent kid, and I'm not going out of my way to continue doing so."

Hermione sighed. "I'm not asking you to. I don't _want_ you to. I'd much rather take the confident Iris over the insecure one who lets people control her life. I get it, I really do. You've rubbed off on me too."

Iris snickered. "Thought we agreed to never speak of that?"

"Oh, for the love of — that's not what I meant, and we've never done that," Hermione said, looking at Ron, but Ron just looked at her with a confused expression. " _S_ _ometimes_ , you really do go overboard. You should apologize to the goblins."

Iris shot a glare at Hermione. "I'd rather grab a niffler and shove a bunch of gold up my —"

"Overboard!"

"No, then," Iris said. "They started it. And I really don't care. Though, I'll admit even I'm surprised my last detention was on the last week of October. I pretty much called Snape a pedophile, and all I got was an angry Dumbledore. I suppose I shouldn't joke about that, but I'd rather get a detention than see anger or disappointment on Dumbledore's face, but regardless, I should have definitely been given a month's worth of detentions for what I said in there."

"You can't get detentions for the rest of the year, Iris," Hermione said.

"You're right, but the point is — wait, what? Why not?" Iris asked, confused and a bit excited.

"Didn't you pay attention when the tournament was announced?"

"Not really."

"Champions can't get detentions as it'll take away time from training and preparing," Hermione said, regretting saying so immediately as Iris's eyes took on an almost mad glint. "But you can still lose points!" she quickly added.

"You know I don't care about house points anymore — they're pointless." After a moment, Iris added, "Pun totally intended."

"No, it wasn't," Hermione said, "and you really shouldn't take this as an excuse to —"

Iris interrupted, smiling dreamily. "This is great. I might excel in diplomacy," — Hermione and Ron snorted — "but I enjoy calling people terrible things more. On my left, there's the boring life — the civil, polite Iris. On my right, however, is the path of anarchy and destruction. I don't think I need to say anything more."

Hermione sighed. "Are you sure you don't come with an instruction manual or something?"

Iris laughed. "Hey Ron, somebody's polyjuiced themselves to look like Hermione. Our Hermione doesn't make jokes."

"You do realize that's how you're going to die, right, Iris? Not by the tournament, but by pissing someone off?" said Ron. "And as of now, that person is Hermione."

"Please, I intend to live forever. And so far, so good."

"Is that a challenge?" joked Ron.

"That's not funny, Ron," said Hermione.

"Hey, our Hermione is back!" Iris said. Hermione smacked her playfully on the arm.

"Bagman's making his way over here," Ron warned, nodding his head past the two girls. Iris turned her head to see that Bagman was indeed making his way right to her. Iris held back a sigh of frustration. What now?

"Oi, Iris, your wand," Ron said, sliding her wand across the table. "Learn how to catch that bloody thing before you take out someone's eye with it."

In an incredible show of maturity, Iris stuck out her tongue at him.

"Ah, Iris! Good-O! Been looking for you!" Bagman said excitedly, taking a seat to Iris's right. Iris noticed that the goblins had left. Strange… She could have sworn she saw them sitting there right before Bagman showed up. Bagman spoke again, "Say, you're the underdog here, right? A feisty one, but an underdog nonetheless! It wouldn't hurt — would it? — if I were to give you a hint for the first task?"

Iris raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Isn't there something saying you can't do _exactly that_?"

"Well, yes…" Bagman said, looking uncomfortable, "But no one has to know. And you should be prepared! Like I said before, the tournament isn't being toned down for you. If you think about it, if you want to survive, you _need_ to know."

"Need is a strong word," Iris said, downing the rest of her butterbeer. "I think I'm good, sir, but thank you."

"Are — are you sure?" Bagman asked, looking troubled.

"Yes. My turn for questions. Why would a group of goblins want to hide from you?"

"W-what?" Bagman said, suddenly pale. He whipped around in his chair and began turning his head in all directions so quick that Iris was expecting to hear a _crack_ and for him to drop dead. "G-goblins? Where?" he said in a panicked tone. He jumped out from his chair and began walking quickly towards the door. Suddenly, the group of five goblins appeared out of thin air where they had been sitting before and sprinted after Bagman, one of them carrying an actual battleaxe. Bagman yelped and picked up his pace, pushing through students and even knocking some to the ground.

"How did you know they were there for Bagman?" Hermione asked, still staring at the door Bagman and the goblins had just exited through.

"I didn't. I knew they weren't gone though as I could still smell them. I thought it was odd they turned invisible as soon as Bagman walked in. I made a guess," Iris shrugged.

"Hello you three, all good over here?" asked Rosmerta. She had just walked over. The three nodded. "You seem to attract all kinds of trouble, Iris. I can safely say this is the first time I've had goblins chase out a customer. Now I don't want any repeats of last year, you hear?"

"Have a little more faith in me, Rosie," Iris said, smiling.

"Yeah, sure. You three doing all your homework, I hope?" Rosmerta asked. "Your O.W.L.s are next year, you know."

Before Hermione could answer, and before Iris could stop herself, the words came tumbling out of her mouth —

"You're my homework," she said.

Rosmerta looked at her, confused. "Pardon?"

"I'm not doing you, but I should be," Iris said, blushing madly, but keeping eye contact.

Ron choked on his drink, and Hermione's jaw dropped. Rosmerta stared at Iris for a moment — Iris was afraid she'd be called a freak, but then Rosmerta burst into loud laughter. Half of the inn looked in their direction.

"Where in the world did you get a dirty mind like that?" Rosmerta said, still smiling widely.

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Iris said.

Rosmerta hummed. "No, I suppose not. You're right, don't tell me. But I think I'm a little too young for you, sweetie — not to mention very feminine."

" _Very_ feminine? Take me to one of your rooms and prove it?" Iris asked as bravely as she could, though her face was nearly all pink.

"My my, if you were older — and a man — I'd flirt back with lines like that. But alas, dear girl, you are not." Rosmerta gave another laugh and shook her head with a smile. "Just call for me if you want something to eat or drink, okay?"

As Rosmerta walked away, Iris turned back to Ron and Hermione, who were blushing so deeply that the three could have been called the Red Trio.

"Shameless, huh?" asked Iris with a smirk.

"Utterly," Hermione murmured.

"Teach me," Ron said suddenly with an absolutely determined face.

Iris laughed, "Didn't you hear her? Male _and_ older. Neither of us would stand a chance."

"One of these days, when I'm older and have a beard, she'll come around. You'll see," Ron said, nodding his head.

Iris wondered if Ron was completely okay with her advances towards another woman, or if he was just _completely_ oblivious. Maybe he just assumed she was joking? Maybe she was wrong and the wizarding world didn't care about things like her sexuality? No, no — she had heard students before. It might be because as a lesbian, she wouldn't be able to continue the Potter line, and not really because of the sexuality itself, but nevertheless, Iris thought she was receiving enough hate. Good for those who figure it out, but she certainly wasn't going to reveal it to anyone.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. The three spent some more time in the rest of the shops in Hogsmeade, and eventually found a secluded spot on the outskirts of the village to start meditating. The three took the Essence of Nature potion, one for each of them, and had a go at it. After thirty minutes, Ron gave up and took a nap. Less than an hour later, Iris and Hermione had given up for the day — they had gone nowhere.

* * *

 **Gryffindor Common Room.**

The three friends were sitting in front of the fireplace in their common room doing homework. Iris flicked her wand out to check the time — the wand flew through her fingers and right into the fireplace.

"You've got to be —" Iris said as she jumped up and threw her hand into the fire. She withdrew it instantly with her wand clutched in her hand. "What's wrong with me?" she asked to no one in particular.

"You've got to practice," said Ron, and he flicked his wand into his hand with ease. He flicked his wrist the other way and the wand flew back into its holster. He repeated the action again, grinning smugly.

" _Tempus_ _Et_ _Diem_ ," Iris said, giving her wand a casual flick. Letters and numbers appeared where she had waved her wand.

 _12:03 AM_

 _Sunday, November 13, 1994_

"I'm going to call Padfoot now," Iris said. She pulled out the mirror Sirius had given her. Looking into it, she sent a pulse of magic into it through her fingers, and at the same time said, "Padfoot."

The rune at the bottom of the mirror glowed, and after a few seconds, Sirius Black's face appeared. Sirius shook his head to clear his long hair out of his eyes and smiled at the sight of his goddaughter — or his goddaughter's forehead, as that was all he could see.

"Uh — Iris? Lower the mirror?"

"Whoops," Iris said as she lowered the mirror so Sirius could fully see her. Sirius looked much better than the last time Iris saw him, but quite frankly, he still looked like shit, and Iris pointed it out. "Wow Sirius, you look like shit."

"Twelve years in Azkaban!" he said. "You wouldn't look too well coming out of Azkaban either!"

"My beauty has no boundaries," Iris said, waving her hand dismissively at the mirror.

"Because you can go from beautiful to ugly in an instant? Yeah, I suppose you're —"

"Shut up, Sirius," Iris said, smiling down at her godfather. "I miss you. You know, it's weird. I've met you literally once in person, but I feel like I already know you a lot."

"Well, I did take care of you when you were a baby —"

"Yeah, yeah, you know what I meant."

"— And we did send quite a few letters. Great minds, the both of us — that's all there is to it. Brilliant jokesters, we are. You and Hedwig bonded almost instantly — why couldn't we?"

"Because you're still a bit of a lunatic," Iris said, throwing her feet on the table in front of her. The impact caused Hermione to push her quill across her parchment, right through her essay. She gave Iris a murderous look.

"Azkaban!" Sirius whined.

"So?"

"So?" Sirius asked in disbelief. "You try going to Azkaban and then after, you can tell me that again."

Iris shrugged. "I imagine it builds character. Once we free you, you can have the whole, 'Oh, woe is me, I spent a decade in prison for a crime I didn't commit,' schtick. Want to know what happens next?"

Sirius nodded warily, but his eyes betrayed his eagerness. Iris had to remind herself that Sirius really did spent twelve years in Azkaban. Animagus or not, it was no surprise that Sirius didn't act his age. Not that Iris really wanted him to — she had enough of responsible adults bossing her around.

"Pity sex, Sirius," Iris said.

"You know, I really don't know if my fourteen year old goddaughter should be trying to convince me to use my own suffering to get lucky," Sirius said, looking down and frowning.

"Just be glad she isn't offering the addresses of brothels," Ron called out.

Sirius gave Iris his hardest attempt at a stern look, one that almost made Iris laugh. "Iris, please tell me Ron is making jokes."

"Of course he is, but you can't seriously expect me to be clueless and naive. I have the Marauder's Map. If I opened it right now, I _guarantee you_ I could find a boy and a girl in a cupboard, the boy's name going just slightly back and forth. I'm in a school full of hormonal teenagers," Iris said. "As much as everybody likes to pretend it doesn't happen, it does — honestly, I'm surprised I haven't seen a pregnant girl yet."

"There are easy contraceptive charms you could learn, that's why," said Hermione, not looking up from her essay.

"This is so bloody weird…" Sirius muttered.

"Sorry Padfoot," Iris said. "You didn't want me to call so you could talk to three teens about… you know."

"You just said it," Sirius said. "What's the problem now?"

"Iris has a problem with blurting things out. Now that she's actually using her brain, she's hesitating," Hermione called out.

Sirius smiled. "James was just like that. Couldn't keep his mouth shut when he needed to. You know, he almost caused another goblin rebellion."

"Dad sounds foolish," Iris said. Hermione and Ron shot her a look, one she ignored.

Sirius chuckled, "He was _very_ foolish in his Hogwarts years. As was I. All of us, really. I suppose Moony was mature and all. Lily too… Alright, it was just James and I that were idiots. Speaking of Lily, she helped make these mirrors, you know."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. She was great at Ancient Runes and enchanting. That rune at the bottom of the mirror? She drew it and made it work."

"Hey, so I've been reading about Ancient Runes a lot in the past two or so weeks. How exactly is it so complicated? I mean, I haven't looked into it _that_ deeply, but how do some runes take over two decades to master?"

Despite not being able to see her, Sirius's eyes darted over to where Hermione was sitting before Hermione even opened her mouth. "It's not just drawing runes with your wand," Hermione said as she got up to take a look at the mirror. "Take a closer look at the rune on the mirror. See how very small some of the symbols are in there? You'd never be able to draw those manually with your wand. For runes like that — and most runes work this way, as there's very few of them that are so simple that you can simply draw them with your wand — but for most runes, you don't just draw the symbols by moving your wand. You have to visualize the rune and every single detail in your mind — that means that every symbol needs to be in your head as you prepare to place the rune, which just involves pointing your wand at a location and turning your wand with your wrist.

"So for a rune that takes two decades to master, you quite possibly have literally hundreds of symbols you have to learn to visualize _all at once_. And not just the symbols, but _exactly_ where they go, what they do, how they work, etc. It isn't even worth it for most people. Occlumency, I imagine, must _really_ help with this. For the rune on your mirror, your mother had to visualize a few dozen symbols all at once and place every symbol where it's supposed to be inside that small circle that's the size of your thumb. Honestly, I'm surprised she was able to. There must be two or three dozen symbols inside the runic circle there. What year was she in, Sirius?"

Sirius, who had been nodding along for the most part during Hermione's explanation, said, "Sixth year."

Hermione opened her mouth in surprise. "Sixth year? Lily could do this in her sixth year?" she asked.

Sirius nodded. "She was a prodigy in Ancient Runes. Became the best in the school in her fourth year, I think. For some reason, she easily got it — easily understood it. I mean, she was plenty good at most other subjects. Got nine O.W.L.s, I think. But her skill at Ancient Runes was incredible for her age. She could have really went somewhere with that, while young too, like Krum did with Quidditch."

Iris frowned at that.

"What?" Sirius asked, noticing it. "Don't like him? I checked him out, he should be fine. Definitely not evil."

"Yeah, well, Krum was the one doing the checking out when it came to me," Iris grumbled. Sirius's eyebrows shot up. "He was leering at me when he first saw me."

"Leer? You mean when he first showed up and looked you up and down?" asked Hermione. After Iris nodded, Hermione exclaimed, "Iris! He wasn't _leering_ at you! Didn't you hear what he said to the person next to him literally right after?"

"Um — no?" Iris said weakly.

"He said, and I quote, 'Oh yes, she does have the build for a good seeker,' you prat!"

Iris opened her mouth in shock and stared at Hermione for a moment, before throwing her face into her hands and groaning. "Oh… my… god… I'm a terrible person…"

Sirius began laughing. "Bit of an ego there, huh?"

"He looked at me and then slowly gazed down my body! I wasn't wearing my robes at the time, so I actually had somewhat of a figure!" Iris exclaimed, her face completely red from shame and embarrassment. "Oh my god, I'm a terrible person," Iris repeated. "He fell down the stairs, and I _laughed_! He must think I'm evil — I'm going to have to apologize next time I see him…"

"Speaking of Krum though," Sirius said, "I think he's okay. Watch out for Karkaroff though. Dumbledore told me you saw the memory of his trial — just make sure you don't end up alone with him — any of you."

"Wait, you're talking with Dumbledore?" Iris asked.

"Of course. He's trying to do what he can to get me a trial, but without Pettigrew, we can't do much," Sirius said bitterly.

"Why can't they just give you Veritaserum?" asked Iris.

"Veritaserum can —" Sirius and Hermione both said at the same time. Hermione beckoned Sirius to talk instead.

"Veritaserum can be fooled if one is good enough at Occlumency. You can't tell outright lies, exactly. I wouldn't be able to say that — oh, I don't know… let's say that I'm under Veritaserum and I want to tell the Wizengamot that my animagus form is a white horse. I wouldn't be able to do that no matter what. What I could do, however, if I was a master Occlumens, is throw every memory I have of being a black dog into a mental safe of sorts, and lock it tight. If the Occlumency barriers are strong enough, Veritaserum won't get to it — meaning that I would be able to trick my brain into believing that I have no knowledge of being a black dog animagus. Get it?"

"So if I was a master Occlumens, I could technically say my name isn't Iris Potter?"

"Well, that would be extremely difficult as you'd have to block out every memory of you being called that," said Sirius.

"What if I did manage to lock away every memory of being called Iris? Would I be able to say that my name was Vivienne Potter, as my first name would have just been… missing?"

"Hm," Sirius said with a thoughtful look, as did Hermione. "You know, I think so."

"And what if I decided to make up a fake name for myself? Would I be able to throw out Iris Vivienne Potter and let the fake name remain, letting me say a completely made-up one?"

Sirius let out a chuckle, "You know, I really can't tell if you're more your father's daughter or your mother's. That kind of brilliance definitely comes from your mother though — not that your father was dimwitted or anything — no, the exact opposite. It's just that your mother was _very_ intelligent and resourceful. She'd be the type of person to come up with something like that. But yeah, I imagine that would work, if you could hypothetically remove all instances of your real name from your mind. But I doubt even Voldemort would be able to do that. Speaking of names though, how's your Animagus process going? Right now, I've got to say, 'Daughter of Prongs', to call you on your mirror, but I'd like to change that to your Marauder name as soon as we see what your Animagus form is."

"Marauder name?" Iris asked, still smiling from what Sirius had said about her parents.

"Of course, _daughter of Prongs_ ," Sirius said, smiling. "I've got to say I almost cried with happiness seeing you sign your first letter with that. But we've got to wait until you actually transform first. Your name has to be based on your form, obviously. Moony for the moon, Wormtail for the worm-like tail that coward had, Prongs for the antlers, and Padfoot for obvious reasons. I hope you're a toad or something — I'd never let you live that down."

"I'm not going to be a toad!" Iris said firmly, pointing a finger at Sirius playfully.

Sirius laughed, "Well, you're sure as shit not going to be a dragon."

"Sirius!" Iris whined. "I told you not to dash my hopes!"

"Relax, you're not going to be a toad. Definitely not a dragon either, don't be silly. If I had to guess… you're not arrogant, but you still prefer to be held in a positive light, so something only somewhat majestic or prideful. That's one of the reasons your father was a stag, you know, his pride. You enjoy flying more than your father, and given your childhood, that's most likely due to the need to experience freedom, which will likely play a role too. If I had to guess, I'd say some large bird. A hawk, eagle, falcon…"

Iris nodded slowly, liking the idea of being a bird, and a little surprised to hear Sirius accurately breaking down her down — specifically the need to be free.

After a moment, Sirius added with a grin, "Or maybe a parrot? Or turkey?"

"If I'm a turkey, I want you to kill me and then roast me."

"I'm not even going to respond to that. I don't know though, we'll see soon enough I imagine."

"Soon enough? Doesn't it take most a year?" Iris asked, bemused.

"For most, yeah. But Remus tells me you learned the Patronus in less than a year when you were thirteen. Casting a Patronus takes a lot of mental focus. _A lot_. I was able to cast one before Azkaban, but I can't anymore — not yet, at least. Azkaban really messed my head up. The meditation part is what gets people the most. Most just can't get past that early stage. But it takes mental focus, and you have it, and you said you've been doing it for years now. Maybe not with the potions, but still... I wouldn't be surprised if you can do it before school ends — if you actually put time and energy into it. The irresponsible side of me says to tell you to do so. The other side, however, says you need to focus on this tournament."

"Remember Fluffy?" Iris asked.

Sirius looked puzzled at the sudden turn of conversation.

"Fluffy, the three-headed dog in my first year, and the flute?" At Sirius's realization and nod, Iris continued. "Hagrid hinted about Fluffy being in the first task. I've learned the Summoning Charm. Well, mostly. I can easily get my flute, but the heavier objects are a bit harder. I'm slowly getting better though. We can only go in with our wands, but there's no rules saying I can't Summon the flute in — maybe I can Summon Dumbledore?" Iris said, rubbing her chin in thought.

"You can't Summon people. Doing so will just result in you flying towards them," Sirius said.

Iris smiled at Hermione apologetically. "Trust me, I know."

"Though... I don't think a three-headed dog is all they'd have for a task," Sirius said, frowning.

"Oh, definitely not. I think dragons are involved on top of —"

"Dragons?!" Sirius yelped.

Iris nodded. "Charlie Weasley works with dragons, and he said he'd see us soon. Not only that, but I questioned Hagrid on it. He began sweating and then ran out of his hut and refused to talk to me for the rest of the day. And three days ago, Moody said something about how my Patronus is impressive and could _possibly_ distract a big beast. I haven't confirmed it yet, but it seems likely. That's why I've been starting to practice the Dragonfire Shield Charm, y'know, the one with the incantation, _Praesidio Incaendium_."

Sirius's eyebrows shot up. "I don't know the incantation, but dragonfire shields? Didn't it take you months to learn the Patronus? I'm sure you _could_ learn it, but in this amount of time…"

"Yes, but Professor Lupin only had the time for about one hour a week on the lessons. I'll be practicing it nearly every day for more than an hour if I can for the next ten days. When I first started, the shield was the size of a galleon. After a day of practicing, it was the size of my fist. That was ten days ago. Now, I can produce it to a size to completely cover my body. Of course, I need to have it not only cover my front but above me, below me, my sides, and most of my back. Hermione shot a jet of fire at me two days ago, and the shield held firm — the fire just splashed out to the sides of me.

"We started brewing burn-healing potions, so don't worry. I just have no idea what else to learn, Padfoot." Iris sighed. "I couldn't possibly learn any spells that would be capable of actually taking down the dragon, so I have to rely on defense while I do whatever the bloody hell it is they want me to do. My dragonfire shield didn't have any trouble holding up against Hermione's fire, except the time when… well, don't worry about that. And dragonfire is..."

"Dragonfire is much, _much_ fiercer, yeah," Sirius said, finishing Iris's sentence. "Dragonfire can roast you alive in seconds. Hermione's can't. Learn the Conjunctivitis Curse if you want another weapon against a dragon."

"I'll take any weapon," Iris muttered to him.

"As you should. Their weak spots are their eyes, but you still won't be able to learn any spells to pierce them — and I doubt the organizers would be happy if you killed one of their dragons. The incantation for the spell is ' _Vexo Oculorum_.' Write it down. No wand movement or anything. If you're brewing potions, brew the Oculus Potion. You'll have to practice the Conjunctivitis on _someone_ , and it would be terrible of you to not at least have the Oculus Potion ready for Snape when he needs it," Sirius said, smirking wickedly.

Hermione stopped writing down what Sirius was staying. "Maybe we don't to learn that spell, Iris?" she said, pleading in her eyes.

"Bugger off, Hermione, the school is going to hear my name screamed louder than ever soon," Iris said. "What better way to practice getting past a dragon than going up against the next worst thing? Snape. I turned his robes pink for the tenth time just three days ago. I also clean his hair for him, at least as much is possible with that spell. For some reason, that alone gets him angrier than almost anything else I use on him. He shouldn't be complaining."

Sirius snickered. "Snape takes his potions brewing seriously. I think he purposely puts something on his hair to make it less of a fire hazard. You should ask him."

"Only if you ask Fudge why insists on wearing that ridiculous green bowler hat," Iris said.

" _Ooh_ , fair enough."

Iris changed the subject. "What else did you find out about the other champions?"

"Not much. Cassius Warrington's father was a Death Eater, one of the ones who got off on claims of the Imperius — and maybe he was under the Imperius, we'll never know. Of course, my family turned out to be a bunch of Death Eaters too, so while I wouldn't be alone with Cassius, he might be okay. Already talked to you about Krum and Karkaroff. Madame Maxime is fine, and so is Fleur Delacour."

"She's amazing," sighed Ron, his face dreamy. Hermione started muttering under her breath.

"Ignore him, he starts drooling anytime Fleur comes near him," Iris said. "Listen, what were you talking about in the letter? The disappearances, the strange _tidings_ ," Iris said, failing to completely hold back a giggle.

"What's so funny?" Sirius asked.

"Strange _tidings_ , Sirius? You were being so dramatic!" Iris burst out in laughter.

"I was not!" protested Sirius, but he looked to be fighting back a smile. "I sent off that letter when I discovered something disturbing, so I was a bit twitchy and unsettled. And if someone got a hold of that letter, they'd know something was happening and about the mirror. Now listen, are you alone?"

At Iris's reassurance that she was indeed alone, Sirius continued: "Okay, so there was the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins. She disappeared while in _Albania_ , Iris. Dumbledore said his last sources told him that Voldemort was rumored to be roaming the Southeastern European countries. Bosnia, Serbia, Macedonia, and Albania. In Northern Albania, specifically the village of Vermosh, muggles have been finding a lot dead animals with no exterior wounds there. Their insides, however, have been either melted or seriously damaged. The brains blackened, as well. Possession. Voldemort's been likely possessing animals to keep himself alive or something.

"Since I couldn't stay in Britain, I went and checked myself — talked to some of the villagers. Vermosh is a small village, Iris. There's a couple hundred people living there, if even that. And on top of the dead animals, there's been a dozen disappearances from there."

"You went to Albania to track down Voldemort?" Iris asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes. I had a portkey with me in case I actually encountered him, don't worry. Even in his wraithlike state, I wouldn't dare try anything. Dead animals, talk of ritualistic drawings made in blood in the forests, dead or missing muggles, all in a place Dumbledore thought Voldemort was residing in. I'll be honest, I was too on edge to actually go into the forests alone to find the ritual sites. But what was made clear to me, however, was that Voldemort had left by the time I got there, if he truly was there. Or so I think.

"Dumbledore also thinks he's back in Britain. He thinks your name coming out of the goblet has something to do with Voldemort. He isn't sure if it's some elaborate plot or if it's just a casual attempt at getting you killed. For all we know, he sneaked one of his men into Hogwarts, had them confound the goblet, and then left. It would be an easy way to have you dead without raising many suspicions. Albus didn't want me telling you this, but I don't care — he lost the right to decide on any non-school related manners when he placed you with the Dursleys. Speaking of that, I don't care if Dumbledore throws a tantrum, you're not going back to the Dursleys this summer."

Iris gave Sirius a weak smile.

"There's more," said Sirius. "The dementors at Azkaban are becoming restless for some reason — "

"I read a little about that in the _Daily_ _Prophet_ today," interrupted Iris.

"Well, they've got one thing right for once. Called Dumbledore a slaver, you a bumbling idiot, and don't even get me started on that Rita Skeeter article. I'm assuming it's completely lies?"

"For the most part, yeah," said Iris. "I did say I was going to win, even if it was purely out of spite. But when she asked how my parents would feel about me entering myself in the tournament, I told her that they'd tell her to go fuck herself. She obviously didn't put that in."

Sirius let out a chuckle and muttered about her father again.

"Right," he said. "Well, the dementors are getting restless and I'm not sure why. There's been a few muggle murders in Britain too — definitely dark magic. Most likely one of Voldemort's servants having some _fun_."

"What about that strange mist I read about? In a place called Bar Harbor?" Iris asked.

"Oh, Bar Harbor is in the States. That's likely not connected."

"And Barty Crouch's odd behavior?"

"No clue," Sirius said, shrugging his shoulders. "Moody and Crouch really aren't that far off when it comes to paranoia and a fierce need to throw Death Eaters in Azkaban. Bastard didn't even give me a trial."

"Who else even knows you're innocent?" Ron asked.

"You three, Dumbledore, Remus, McGonagall. Though, I don't know if Dumbledore meant he had told McGonagall or if McGonagall had just believed I was innocent this whole time. That's really it though"

"You should work on that," said Iris.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "You lot should get some sleep. Or don't? I don't really know how to do this whole responsible guardian thing. Either way, I've got to go. I have to get up early tomorrow. I could be back in Britain soon, but Dumbledore is asking me to do a bunch of things along the way, and that'll hold me off for a couple weeks or a few months. We'll have the mirrors though, okay? You be careful. All three of you. Your grandparents talked about how it felt before the first war started. It feels like this. Though, of course, no one at the time thought it would lead to anything. No, they all thought it was nothing. After all, why would a few isolated incidents mean anything? But if you know where to look, if you can see the connection... Just stay safe."

Iris nodded solemnly. "Call me whenever you can, Sirius. I'll pick up if I can."

* * *

 **Hogwarts Grounds.**

Iris downed the Essence of Nature potion and closed her eyes. Last time, she got nowhere, but there was the distant chatter of students in Hogsmeade last time, and she hadn't tried all that hard. There were only the sounds of nature now. Keeping her eyes shut, she let the rest of the world bleed away.

There was a cool breath of air. She felt it breeze through her black hair and she inhaled. It felt different, somehow, from the other deep breaths she had taken in her life. This one felt fresher, cleaner, more personal. She felt the tension in her shoulders slowly die away. The groaning of trees and the rustles of leaves, the swaying of the grass and the chirps of birds — Iris began to focus in on all of it. They all became more distinct, and yet at the same time, Iris didn't have trouble keeping track of it all at the same time.

Her lungs expanded as she let in another breath of fresh air in. The sounds of nature began to slowly fade away until it was all distant. It all sounded as though Iris was really on the Astronomy Tower, far away from the sounds of nature with the exception of the wind. Only the thoughts of how she felt, the distant sounds, and the sensation of floating seemed to float about in her nearly empty mind.

She had no desire to stop. Iris was lost in the feeling of the most pleasant relaxation — it was almost as if she was under a mild Imperius. There was even a faint sound of something in the winds, almost like a —

"Iris?"

Her eyes snapped open. The first thing she noticed was that the sky was not the blue the sky usually was in midday. There was some blue, but mostly orange and pink. It was sunset. The second thing she noticed was Hermione kneeling in front of her, looking concerned.

"Iris, are you okay?" she asked.

"It's sunset," Iris said.

"Yes…" Hermione said slowly, looking a bit more concerned. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you for hours."

"It's sunset?" Iris asked again, feeling a bit concerned herself. She had sat down to meditate at five. She had done homework and practiced the Summoning Charm from noon to four-thirty, and had walked out of the castle to meditate in what only felt like ten minutes ago. Had over three hours really passed?

Iris opened her mouth to speak, realized she didn't know what to say, then closed her mouth.

"Iris? Do you need to go to the infirmary?" Hermione asked.

"What? No, no, I just meditated longer than I realized. _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_ time!" Iris said, getting up.

The two found themselves by the lake, as they didn't think it was necessary to go all the way down to Slytherin's Chambers, as they called it.

Iris stood in front of Hermione and prepared herself to perform the dragonfire shield. She didn't think it was a good sign that she had to spend around ten seconds preparing herself to cast it — she doubted the dragon would give her so long, but she couldn't do it otherwise.

To cast the shield, she had to first make herself believe she really was about to be engulfed by a raging fire. Iris hoped this part would be made easier when she was actually facing the dragon, but she wasn't sure. She visualized an inferno around her and let fear fill her in a similar way she'd let joy fill her when she wanted to cast a Patronus. And then, right before she drew her wand in a wide circle, she squashed that fear with a feeling of warmth, but in a protective warmth.

" _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_!"

A shield of a watery aqua-green substance formed in front of Iris. It started at the size of a plate, but grew to be large enough to cover a fully grown adult within two seconds. Iris noticed that unlike before, the shield was beginning to cover not only her front, but a small bit of the her sides as well. The goal was to have it cover at least ninety percent of her body, including her back, but it was definitely an improvement.

Despite being semitransparent, Iris could still see through the shield enough to see Hermione preparing to cast fire in her direction. Iris focused on the feeling of warmth and protection, like a thick blanket would give on a cold night.

" _Incendio_ ," she heard Hermione say.

A small ball of fire splattered against her shield.

" _Incendio_!" Hermione shouted, and a larger ball of fire flew into Iris's shield, and was dissolved into the shield as soon as the fire touched it.

"Stronger, Hermione!" Iris called out.

" _Ignem_ _Perpetua_!"

A jet of fire struck her shield, and Iris was nearly forced to take a step back from the sudden pressure of air her own shield shot out on her side. She felt her shield faltering after a few seconds of Hermione's fire, and she focused even harder.

Her shield strengthened and began to expand, covering nearly half of her sides. After a few more moments, Hermione let up, and Iris dropped her shield.

"That was excellent, Iris!" Hermione beamed with pride. "The last spell didn't get as close as last time on getting through. I felt a lot more resistance in the magic. Want to try the big one?"

Iris nodded tiredly. Like the Patronus, this spell was mentally taxing. She raised her wand, focused on the mental aspect of the spell, and cast it once more. She let it build up as much as she thought she could before giving Hermione a shout to perform the next spell, which a textbook said would send a fire variant of a battering ram. It was more of a mix between the Banishing Charm and a strong Fire-Making Spell. Last time Hermione had tried it, her shield had broken instantly and Iris became a flaming fireball as she was blasted back into the pool of water they had set up. She had to take a trip to the hospital wing that night.

Iris had the Great Lake to her back this time.

Hermione turned sideways, drew her wand back to her chest, and shouted, " _Arietes_ _Augue_!"

A square of fire, which almost looked like magma, appeared in front of Hermione, who thrust her wand forward. The square of fire instantly lengthened to a rectangular prism the size of Hermione's arm. It flew forward at an incredible speed and slammed into Iris's shield.

The shield shattered and Iris was once again flung back. Only this time, she wasn't engulfed in flames — her shield had managed to absorb most of it.

Iris rose from the water, dripping wet.

"We're casting a Warming Charm on the lake next time," Iris said, shivering.

Hermione giggled. "You can't cast a Warming Charm on the entire lake."

"Then I'll shoot fire at it until this small part warms up. I'll be damned if I jump into the bloody lake when it's cold again."

The two went at it again for another hour before they headed back to the castle. They had class in the morning.

Iris spent the following weekdays going to class, meditating, and practicing spells. She had completely mastered the Summoning Charm. She and Hermione had agreed that Summoning her broom against the dragon could work if all she had to do was get past it. And so, she spent most of her time on shielding against dragonfire. She also took some time to practice a few offensive spells.

By Friday, the eighteenth of November, Iris was able to hold off against six of Hermione's flaming battering rams before her shield broke. She was even able to cast ' _Arietes_ _Augue'_ almost to Hermione's level. Hermione, instead of practicing the dragonfire shield, had practiced that spell instead, so they could give Iris a real test.

Spells weren't the only thing Iris had improved on. Her meditation was coming along much faster than she and Hermione would have thought. Hermione took a guess and said it was because Iris had spent so much time meditating in Surrey. She had also spent several hours a day in her trance, and that _might_ have helped. She didn't even need the Essence of Nature potion to enter her trance anymore. She hadn't used one since Tuesday, but she decided to use it again today, as she wasn't having too much luck in finding her 'beacon'.

Iris was currently sitting by the large oak tree near the Great Lake. She drank the Essence of Nature, and sat down to begin. After taking multiple deep breaths and emptying her mind, she was already in her trance. The distant feeling settled in, and Iris was surprised to notice that this time, with the Essence of Nature no doubt helping her, she was much more aware of her surroundings.

There was that faint sound in the wind again. By now, Iris had been able to focus in on it and had found out it was a whispering of sorts, almost a melody. The moment she heard it this time, she latched onto it. She ignored all other sounds, all other feelings — it seemed like the right thing to do, and she focused in on the very distant whispering melody. As she pulled herself to it, it almost felt as though it was doing the same…

Almost as if it was _calling_ to her.

Two hours later, what felt like five minutes to Iris, she had managed to completely isolate the calling. A part of her was very curious as to — no, she had to focus. There was time for speculation later. She was afraid she'd lose the connection instantly if she had so much as a stray thought. This fear itself made her feel the connection loosen, and she emptied her mind again.

Suddenly, her magic felt like it exploded. She felt it latch onto something, a feeling she had never felt before, something she couldn't even begin to describe. Either the distant melody was all of a sudden right next to her or her magic was singing.

It intensified.

The connection grew stronger, until it felt like it would burst from what Iris could only describe as a magical vibration.

And then, it suddenly settled to a calm.

Iris reached out and felt the connection, and it was no longer a vibration, but a wavy pulsating feeling. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. It was just like her dad's journal said; she would just _know_.

She was ready for the next step.


	6. Far Too Many Riddles

**Author's Notes:**

If you're curious about what the phoenix that shows in this chapter looks like, google "Dreamer by Gpotious." It's a beautiful piece of art.

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 **Far Too Many Riddles**

 **1994, November 19, Beauxbatons Carriage.**

"Fleur, have you talked to Potter?"

Fleur looked up from her book and frowned. "Non, she is impossible to catch. Ever since ze Weighing of ze Wands — Weighing of _the_ Wands, I've 'ad trouble finding 'er. I saw 'er put on a Cloak of Invisibility once. I zink — _think_ ," Fleur said, pausing again to correct her English, "I think that she does it to 'ide from 'er classmates. I've 'eard of the way zey talk about 'er. The English are incredibly rude."

"Come now, you know the French can be rude as well," Madame Maxime said, looking down at her. "An Invisibility Cloak though? Those are very expensive, I'm surprised she has one."

"I tried asking 'er friend, zat — _that_ — Ronald, but all 'e could say was that he 'elped stop a Dark Lord," Fleur said, laughing bitterly. "I'll try approaching 'er other friend soon."

"Good, good. Throw in a few questions about Potter's skills, will you? You still haven't learned the Patronus and you're three years older — she might have other skills. We don't want to underestimate her. Figure out what you can. Use her to your own advantage anyway you can," Madame Maxime said, patting Fleur on the shoulder.

Fleur looked up at Madame Maxime, smiled, and said, "Of course, Madame Maxime."

When Madame Maxime turned to look out the window, Fleur scowled at her back.

She muttered under her breath, "Should 'ave never let you convince me to —"

"There, Fleur," Madame Maxime suddenly said. "The Potter girl and her friend, they're outside now. Go now."

Fleur sighed and got up. She walked out of the room without another look at Madame Maxime and left the carriage, ignoring the venomous looks from the other girls and the dreamy ones from the boys. She stepped out of the carriage and looked around.

Where were they?

She began walking towards the castle, thinking they had perhaps already gone inside, when she heard a voice from over a small hill. She couldn't make out what it had said, so she began making her way towards the voice. Another voice came and it sounded as if the two were arguing.

"You've been at it for not even a full week!" Fleur heard a voice yell. "It takes most months, even years to get this far ahead, Iris! It would be a miracle if you — if you — there's no way you're ready!"

"Will you stop yelling? I didn't fix my eyesight only to lose my hearing," came another voice — a more familiar one. It was Iris Potter. "I just know that I've got it, okay? I can just feel it. I've been doing it for years anyway, technically, meditating in general, and two months by actually doing what Sirius told me to do. Most wizards and witches wouldn't bother with something they'd consider a muggle technique, and Occlumency itself is a rare and difficult branch of magic, so obviously it would take most a long time. This isn't like the Chamber, there'll be no Basilisk this time."

Fleur had walked over the hill and leaned against a tree to listen to the conversation.

"No, no Basilisk, just an entire colony belonging to —"

"Relax, Aragog likes me," Iris said.

"He told his children to eat you!" Hermione shouted.

Basilisks and flesh-eating children? Fleur was beginning to wonder if it was really a good idea to come anywhere near Iris Potter.

"A misunderstanding, I'm sure. I won't go near the colony anyway. So no colonies nor Basilisks. I still can't believe Newt is selling new copies of his book purely for the edit of my encounter. Ridiculous."

"It's not just for you, it's for the update on the spiders in the forest as well. And there hasn't been a Basilisk seen in centuries, so of course he's going to update it."

"Newt _himself_ had a bloody Basilisk. I wonder how he got that out without anyone else seeing it?"

"Yes, but he had to keep Jerry quiet. I don't think — quit changing the subject!"

"Right. Well, I have the Portkey, Hermione, I'll be okay. You worry too much."

Hermione stared at Iris for a moment before shaking her head and sighing. "I know I can be a bit overbearing… but I only do it because I _care_ for you. Do you even realize how important you are to me? Ever since my parents found out about what kind of dangerous situations I've been, ever since the argument that ensued — no, don't apologize — they've been more like acquaintances than anything else. I don't want to lose the most important person in my life. I don't want to see you get yourself killed, and this! This, not even you can deny, is dangerous and _stupid_. There's only one thing left for me to do. I'm coming with you."

"I know you care," Iris said. "I do. And don't think you're not the most important in my life as well. With that said, you most certainly are not coming. I need somebody to cover for me, and I've no idea where Ron is. Seriously, where does he disappear to?" Iris asked, looking around as if she was expecting Ron to be lying around. "It doesn't matter. I won't be able to make it back for at least twenty-four hours; that means you have to be ready to make up a lie as to where I am. Dumbledore said I need to go with someone, but I can't do that. He's not even at Hogwarts right now; Sirius isn't in the country; McGonagall would have a fit about me going into the Forbidden Forest, and Hagrid can't leave his skrewts."

"You asked Hagrid?"

"Only if we could go into the Forbidden Forest, explore for a bit, you know? I didn't really think it through since I have no idea what I'd say to get him to leave me alone there for a full twenty-four hours. It's fine, you've taught me the Proximity Ward. I've been practicing it. I can make one large enough to reach our dorm room door even if I cast it from the wall furthest from the door. That means the ward will be twice as wide as our dorm room. I'll cast it to only alert me if anything larger than a fox gets through — I think that size is good enough."

"You've got everything then?" came Hermione's voice after a few seconds.

"Yes. I've got the Portkey, the leaf and several potions, one of which I've already drank. I've got two leaves just in case actually."

"And you think it wise to go and do this a few days before the first task? You'll have to keep it in your mouth during the first task," said Hermione.

"Hmm," Iris said, thoughtfully. "Yeah, you're right. I don't have to place it in my mouth literally right after, though. I'll wait until after the first task. And they've sent first years in there for detention, remember? They had no problem with having Malfoy and I go alone. That was three years ago too. I didn't have the spell knowledge I have now. I'm sure my Shield Charm will be good enough, and that _Arietes_ _Augue_ spell should deal with most things — though it can leave a nasty burn if you don't do it right. _Protego,_ Praesidio Incaedium _, Arietes Augue, Avada Kedavra..._ "

"Iris..."

"Alright, alright, no Killing Curse."

Fleur saw Hermione talk quietly to Iris for a few more moments before giving her a long and tight hug, and then the two went their own paths. Once Hermione had gone into the castle and Iris was near the edge of the forest, Fleur followed her, forgetting what she had originally intended to do.

As she followed Iris from a distance, curious as to where exactly Iris would be going to in the Forbidden Forest, she thought about what she had heard. She really didn't know what to make of most of it.

What had Iris Potter been at for a week? Another spell, perhaps? Something similar to the Patronus, something that could help her in the first task? Whatever it was, it took most months or years. Had she also learned the Patronus in a week? Fleur wouldn't believe that even if Dumbledore himself told her so. She had been working on the Patronus for almost three weeks and all she could get was a small shield of silvery mist. It was irritating considering she had nearly practiced every single day. Madame Maxime constantly pressuring her definitely didn't help.

Then there was talk of Basilisks and flesh-eating children. She had heard a rumor of Iris battling a Basilisk in her second year, but that was obviously just a rumor.

There was the leaf and the potions, and especially the Portkey. Where would a fourth year get a Portkey from? As for the other two things, perhaps she was going to do a ritual. Not all of them were dark after all.

Iris could also cast a Proximity Ward, a decent sized one as well. Fleur had only learned to cast one last year.

Another point to Iris Potter.

She had no idea what _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_ or _Arietes_ _Augue_ was.

Another thing that stood out was the mention of someone named Sirius. It wasn't exactly a common name, and yet, it couldn't be Sirius Black, could it? Rumor was the man had betrayed the Potters and wanted to kill the last living one. It was then Fleur realized that she had completely lost Iris.

"Merde," she muttered as she began to walk back, not only because she had lost Iris but because she couldn't figure out exactly what she and her friend had been talking about. She wasn't a fan of riddles.

On the way back, she began looking down the lakeside. Back home, in France, she had her own spot at Beauxbatons — a little haven of hers that she had partially made herself. It was near a waterfall and a large pond, a very beautiful location. Her mother, who was very talented even while at school, had selfishly placed it under the Fidelius before Fleur even started attending Beauxbatons, not that Fleur minded once she actually saw the place.

When the time came for her first year, her mother had made one of the teachers there the Secret Keeper, a friend of the family. Fleur couldn't be the Secret Keeper, as the Fidelius would get weaker the longer the Secret Keeper stayed within it. Otherwise, people could just hide Secret Keepers within the Fidelius protected location and the secret would never get out.

Fleur grew her favorite flowers there and added a large and comfortable hammock in between two of the trees. She Transfigured the rocks and branches lying about into a table she could do her homework on, and she fashioned herself a small bookcase that was built into the underside of the table. A chair was added too, of course.

She even added a firepit for the colder nights. It wasn't that she needed one, as warming charms always did the trick just fine, but the sound of fire crackling and the orange glow it emitted made the place feel more like a small home.

She would spend almost every weekend there, sleeping in the hammock — for she was much lazier than she let on, swimming in the large pond, or even just doing her homework. She became steadily more isolated, only keeping a few friends — most of them being the staff. Even there, she wasn't all too close to them. This led to her spending more and more time in her Safe Haven, as she called it.

As she thought of home and how little she cared for Hogwarts, and Britain in general, she began to get more frustrated with Madame Maxime for pressuring her into coming, and herself for giving in to the pressure. She didn't care for Hogwarts, nor the tournament, nor any of it really. She had nothing here. She shouldn't have bothered with putting her name into the Goblet of Fire. It was all so stupid.

She didn't care for glory and fame. She wouldn't have minded the money, as her family was only above average in terms of wealth, but it certainly wasn't anything to risk dying for. She had so little to strive or live for in France though, outside her family; no wonder it was so easy for Madame Maxime to convince her to try out for the Triwizard Tournament; no wonder she couldn't produce a Patronus.

She snapped out of her thoughts as she saw what she was looking for. It was a peninsula leading out to the Great Lake. There were plenty of trees on it. She could only dream of casting the Fidelius, so she'd have to rely on natural cover. The trees would do. There were even rocks at the edge of it. She could easily create a small pool for herself by levitating the rocks around. It looked as if it had a nice spot for a hammock, with a nice view even.

It could be the best she could hope for, here in Hogwarts, when it came to finding herself a new Haven. She'd be here for another seven months. She might as well give herself something to enjoy.

And so, Fleur set out to explore the peninsula and see if it was good enough.

* * *

 **The Forbidden Forest**

Iris had been walking in the Forbidden Forest for fifteen minutes, and yet, the beacon still felt far off. How longer was it? She was surprised to not have encountered anything even close to dangerous yet. In fact, she didn't think she had encountered anything at all outside of a few birds when she first entered the forest. She would have expected something… anything, really, even a squirrel would have eased her nerves.

And when she noticed what else felt off, her nerves only got worse. Her thoughts about not seeing any other living things made her realize one thing.

Outside the noise she was making, it was completely silent.

Not only was it so dark that it almost looked like nighttime thanks to the large trees, but she couldn't hear a single sound outside the ones she was making. And a second later, she wasn't making any either outside her heartbeat. She had stopped breathing, and began to listen.

Nothing. There weren't even the gusts of wind.

Was it foolish that she had gone out here alone?

She began to think so.

In the safety of Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest seemed alright; not that bad; the thought of going in alone maybe even felt a little exciting.

Now though?

Now she was all alone in an ominous forest, where the trees blocked out the sun, where silence prevailed so heavily that her heartbeat sounded like war drums, where she felt like a hundred eyes were watching her all at once.

She fingered her Portkey. Maybe she should just use it and come back later with someone else? Having Hermione here would be a dream come true. Even better, Ron. She was much closer to Hermione, but Hermione didn't share her sense of humor the way Ron did. She needed humor right now. It was her defensive mechanism, and she knew it.

Phoenix Wings. That was all she had to say and she'd be whisked away to Dumbledore's office. So simple, so tempting, yet she felt like she shouldn't.

No, she should continue.

Iris marched on, ignoring the fact it seemed to be getting darker, ignoring the silence outside the crunching leaves and snapping twigs, and most of all, not daring to look behind her. She held her wand tighter. She knew Protego, and would throw it up instantly if she felt anything was suddenly too close.

The loud snapping of a twig made her stop. She had been carefully avoiding anything that would make too much noise, and she knew she had not been the one to step on any branches. She turned to look at the direction the noise came from, and nearly gasped.

A floating skull was staring right at her. It looked to be the skull of a stag, given the structure and the antlers. Iris stared at it for a moment before noticing that it wasn't floating at all. It was connected to a grey body, one that looked more like it belonged to a very muscular and large bull than a stag, and one that had two large wings folded by its body.

Iris had no idea what it was, but its appearance was enough to make her slowly walk away. The creature stared at her for a moment, before turning around and walking away too.

Iris let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and turned back to continue on her way. She decided it was dark enough for her to use her invisibility cloak now. She hadn't wanted to use it before because she didn't want the cloak to tear from the branches on the floor. Lifting it up would make her feet visible, making it not worthwhile to use. But now the forest was dark, and in front of her, the forest became so suddenly pitch-black that Iris was sure it was unnatural.

" _Lumos_ _Maxima_ ," she muttered under her breath. Her wand lit and she immediately flicked it, sending the ball of light ahead, into the darkness. To her disbelief and terror, the ball of light disappeared into the shadows, as if it was swallowed up.

Iris stood there for a moment, unsure if she should continue. She lit her wand again and sent another ball of light, this time paying much closer attention.

The light would travel, lighting everything as it should, until it reached a certain point — where the unnatural blackness seemingly began, and then, it would just disappear as if the spell was cancelled.

A voice from behind her caused her to jump in fright and let out a shriek.

"It is not — I did not mean to frighten you, young one," said a centaur. "But as I was saying, it is not usual for a human to be this far into the forest, much less a young one as you. And to be so close to the shadows, tell me, why is it you are here?"

Iris took a moment regain her composure. "I — I need to find something. It's that way," she said, pointing towards the shadowy part of the forest.

The centaur raised its eyebrows. "Why?"

"I'm trying to become an Animagus, and this is part of the process," Iris said, realizing there was really no harm in revealing her plan to one centaur. It wasn't as if this lone centaur would go to the Ministry to tell them.

The centaur didn't say anything for half a minute, and Iris wasn't really sure what to do, but then he responded. "Your Place of Power is calling to you from within the shadows?" he asked, looking up at what would be the sky if the trees didn't cover it.

"Er — Place of Power?" Iris asked.

His head snapped down to gaze at Iris. "I have stalled you long enough. The ones who lurk amongst the shadows have passed, and you may enter safely. There will be no need for your Cloak of Invisibility; there is no sight in the shadows. There is only darkness. Travel quickly," he said. And with that, he turned and galloped away, leaving a frightened Iris behind.

"The ones who lurk amongst the shadows— what the hell does that mean?" Iris muttered to herself, rubbing her arms in an attempt to put herself at ease.

It wasn't working.

She looked down at her Portkey again and began rubbing the silver phoenix pendant. She'd use it only if she had to. She had to do this. She didn't _need_ to become an Animagus, but she wanted to do _something_ impressive besides the Patronus. She had learnt that almost out of necessity.

Her father, Remus, and Sirius had all become not only Animagi, but they had made the Marauder's Map. Iris didn't know how she would even start with making such a complicated piece of magic. Her mother was the best in school at Ancient Runes at the age of fourteen, and was apparently great in most of the other subjects. Perhaps they were romanticizing her a bit, but Iris doubted all the praise came from nowhere.

There were the mirrors that they had made as well. The twins made all kinds of pranking objects, something that, again, Iris wouldn't know where to start with if she wanted to do the same. Snape had once told her he had created spells in his time at Hogwarts as a way to show Iris how utterly pathetic she was.

And outside the Patronus, wasn't she a bit?

What exactly had she done in her three years of Hogwarts besides get into trouble and save people's lives? Sure, the latter was worth mentioning, but that was mostly luck and the help of others. Snape's spells were unique, whatever they were. The Marauder's Map was unique — and still is. The twins would likely create all new kinds of interesting magical objects within a few years.

 _She_ had completed the meditation part of the Animagus process within a week. She would follow through with this and hopefully become the quickest Animagus in recent history. It would be something she could actually be proud of, something she actually worked towards. Outside the Patronus, something she believed anyone could learn if they dedicated enough time to it, she didn't really have anything.

Her mother was the one who stopped Voldemort, not her. Her scar meant nothing, really. She was good at Quidditch, sure, but that came naturally. She didn't have to practice nonstop to become as good as she was. She was just a natural at it, and not only that, but she had the fastest broom in the school. She couldn't exactly be too proud of winning Quidditch games, could she?

She had told the twins she would try in the tournament, and while she certainly meant she would _try_ , she wasn't planning on doing her best. The more she thought about it, though, the more she began to _want_ to try her best. She most certainly didn't want any more fame, but at this stage, could she really gain any more from winning one tournament? And if she did win, it would be against three seventh years. She'd prove Snape wrong with that, that was for certain.

Iris shook herself mentally, and stared back into the shadows.

Why not?

What was the worst that could happen?

She began walking towards it.

She was inches away from the wall of shadow.

She took a step in and everything went black. She hadn't passed out, her vision was just all black. She lifted her hands to her face and she could see them. She could see her entire body and even the ground, but really only a circle of a few feet could be seen.

She closed her eyes and and felt her beacon — Place of Power? — reaching for her. She walked on, looking only at the ground not just to avoid tripping on anything but because it was pointless looking anywhere else — there was only blackness.

Iris had been walking for a few minutes in the dark, not being able to see two feet in front of her, when the sound of something disturbed her. Up until now, there was only quiet. And now, there was a strange sound that she couldn't explain fully. It sounded a bit like a bird call of a diver bird, except far more mournful and haunting. A plaintive wailing of sorts. Whatever it was, it let out single eerie tones that lasted for five to ten seconds before repeating.

Iris felt shivers go up her spine. She clutched her wand in her right hand and the Portkey in the other.

After two minutes of more walking, the wails stopped and it was silent again.

After a few moments of silence, another wail came.

This one was closer. Much closer. It sounded as though it was only fifty feet away.

Iris spun around, her hairs more on end than ever before. The phoenix pendant was slipping from her sweaty palm and she clutched it tighter, not caring that the sharp edges were digging into her skin. She lit her wand again, but it provided no light whatsoever.

Another wail. Twenty feet away.

" _Lumos_ _Maxima_!" Iris shouted in a panic. No light came. " _Incendio_!" she tried again, and she witnessed the flames get swallowed by darkness a mere foot from her wand.

Suddenly, what must have been only five feet from her, a large piercing, wailing scream made Iris scream herself. She took a step backwards, only to trip and fall.

"Phoenix Wings!" she shouted, no longer able to stand it. She wanted to go back. She didn't think it was worth it. There were other ways of proving herself. She wasn't even sure she'd want to come back at all, even if it was with Dumbledore himself.

It was then that Iris realized the Portkey had not worked. She shouted the phrase again, but nothing happened. There was no tug behind her navel, no anything at all. She sent a pulse of magic into it, thinking maybe that was what was needed and said the phrase again.

She remained right where she lay.

She wanted out. The entire place felt _off_ , as if something dark, deep, and sinister was lurking just out of sight, and if she turned around too suddenly, a great and evil entity would be there, a tall and intimidating form staring down at her, without blinking.

The wailing seemed to be getting louder. It was surrounding her on all sides. Wail after wail. Scream after scream. The darkness seemed to be closing in. Iris couldn't move out of terror. The feeling of dread, of something unnatural being nearby, returned. She knew it was watching her. She didn't think even dementors had terrified her to this point. She was sweating. The wails were getting louder. They were deafening. She thought her eardrums would burst.

"Iris," came a voice from nearby.

Iris looked around, but all she could see was blackness and shadowy tendrils reaching out for her. They wrapped around her legs and began pulling her into the black. She screamed and clawed into the ground, but ground itself seemed to be made out of the very same substance — a fluid-like shadow.

She closed her eyes and screamed in terror.

"Wake up."

She opened her eyes, and she saw Hermione looking at her.

"You need to wake up," Hermione said, her face completely blank.

Iris sat up in her bed and took a look around and saw she was in her dorm room, but it looked… _off_. She didn't know what was different. She glanced at Hermione, whose face was still blank.

"Hermione? What the — what happened?" Iris asked in a panicked tone. There was absolutely no way it was just a nightmare. It couldn't have been.

"You need to wake up," Hermione said again, staring into Iris's eyes.

"What? I am awake — what the hell is wrong with you?" Iris asked, unsettled as she had noticed how none of Hermione's facial features outside her mouth seemed to move at all. "Hermione?"

"You mustn't stay, lest you descend into never ending madness," Hermione said in a voice that was not hers, but rather that of a male — a familiar one too. It was the voice of the centaur she had spoken to before.

The walls of the room began to change, darken, and they all became the shadowy walls of blackness Iris had seen in the forest.

Everything went dark again, and then a small amount of light appeared, and illuminated over it was the centaur she had spoken to.

"Come, young one. Do not let the dreams beckon, you mustn't leave the waking world," he said, pulling Iris to her feet. He held in his hand a crystal that emitted light, and unlike any of her spells, it seemed to push the shadows back. "Come, I will take you beyond."

Iris stook close to the centaur, flinching whenever she thought she saw a tendril of shadow reaching for her out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't even sure if she was really awake; everything still felt like an odd dream. The reality around her seemed distorted. She felt like she was in a whole other world, a new reality.

In what felt like no time at all, the centaur stopped and said, "We are here. Take a step forward and you will enter the heart of the forest. I will not wait for you. You must find your own way back. One of your kind saved my life before, and I have repaid the debt. Goodbye, prophesied one."

"P-prophesied?" Iris asked, turning to the centaur, but the centaur was already gone. Iris turned back around and could just faintly see trees through the darkness. She took two step forwards, and suddenly, it was day time. She spun around in amazement and saw that the wall of black was still there. Unlike the entrance to the shadows, however, the shadows seemed to be attempting to breach through an invisible wall.

Iris reached a hand out, wanting to see if there was a wall stopping the shadows from entering the so-called heart of the forest. Her hand went right through, and entered the shadows.

Before she could pull it out, she felt something graze her hand — she immediately pulled it out as quickly as she could, and as her hand was brought back, another hand reached out and slammed against the invisible barrier, before slowly withdrawing.

Iris stared in shock at where the hand had been. What had she gotten herself into? This is something she would have expected out of one of the horror movies Dudley would watch. It didn't even make any sense. She checked the time, and to her surprise, she had been in there for less than twenty minutes. She could have swore it felt like much longer.

What was the shadows? What the hell was in it? How the hell was she supposed to get back? Why does it suddenly stop? Why does this part of the forest look nothing like the Forbidden Forest?

Indeed, it looked nothing like the gloomy forest she had just come from. It was actually beautiful. The leaves of the trees were bright green, and the sun actually reached through the top of the trees. The trees themselves looked as though they were breathing. They swayed, but there wasn't nearly enough wind to make them do so. They felt _alive_.

The ground also caught her eye.

It was absolutely covered in flowers. The majority of them looked to be bluebell flowers, but there were also red, pink, and violet flowers. A light mist hung in the air, highlighted by the beams of sunlight, but it only enhanced the forest's beauty.

It looked like a place out of a fairy tale.

Iris stared at it in awe, not believing that just behind her, a twisted place of abominations lay, attempting to corrupt this _gorgeous_ part of the forest. And the more she thought of it, the more she wanted to get away from wall of shadow — and so, she began walking further into the heart of the forest, breathing in air that felt fresher than anything she had breathed in before.

She saw a unicorn far to her right. It didn't acknowledge her, so she kept going, tugging at the pull of the Place of Power to get a feel on where it could be. For a few more moments, there was only the crunching of the leaves, grass, and flowers beneath each of her steps.

Then there was a screech, and Iris snapped her head to where it had come from.

She couldn't even begin to process what it was before she was forced to duck under the big flying beast which flew low to the ground. She turned her head from the ground and watched it — a griffin — fly away, up and up, through the top of the trees, and out of view.

Iris stared at where it had disappeared from view for a moment before shaking her head, and continuing on, walking towards the place she felt she needed to be.

She walked slowly, taking in the beauty around her, breathing in the fresh air, and watching the interesting magical creatures in this part of the forest. A few griffins, another unicorn, a pegasus, a group of kneazles, a white bunny with wings, a few hippogriffs, and plenty of non-magical animals as well.

The one that really caught her eye was on a branch of a tree, a look of curiosity upon its face as it looked down at her. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but it looked a bit like a phoenix, except it was not red.

Its eyes were blue, except lighter. They nearly shone — almost like a sapphire. Its head looked like that of a phoenix, as did most of its body, but the beak was much straighter than that of a phoenix's beak, and the feathers that extended from its head went further out than those she had seen on Fawkes.

Fawkes's plumage was scarlet-and-gold. This one was mostly midnight blue, but there were also other shades of blue. Fawkes's beak had a sudden downturn at the end of it, while this one only had the slightest of curves at the end. The eyes of Fawkes were purely black, and this one had blue ones that were nearly glowing.

Fawkes was fierce looking. This one's appearance was elegant, graceful, perhaps even feminine.

"You're a pretty little birdie."

The bird let out a sound that could only mean indignation.

"Er — right, not little. What are you, a phoenix?" Iris asked uncertainly.

It shook her head, and then, instead of the flames Iris expected, there was a large flash of light that burst out of the bird, temporarily blinding Iris, and a large clap of thunder right after. After her vision cleared and began working two seconds later, Iris noticed that the bird was gone.

There was another thunderclap from behind her, and startled, Iris jumped up and around in fright, only to have to quickly duck as the strange phoenix-bird attempted to hit her head with one of its wings. It landed back on its branch and stared at Iris as if expecting her to piece it together.

"Thunderbirds don't do that," Iris murmured to herself, and neither did phoenixes. "Whatever, I don't have time for riddles. See ya, birdie."

The bird didn't let a trill this time, but what could only be described as a sonic scream.

Iris clapped her hands over her ears. The scream was deafening. Her eardrums must have been pierced by nails, as it felt as though hammers were being pounded against the sides of her skull. But a second later, it was over and Iris was left gaping at the bird, which looked to have a look of smugness on its face.

"What the hell? You ugly little —"

The bird opened its mouth again, as though daring Iris to finish her sentence.

Grumbling to herself at the absurdity of the situation, Iris turned her back on it and continued walking, ignoring the indignant squawks of the phoenix-hybrid-thing. Fifty feet later, she noticed that the angry squawking was still nearby. Iris turned her head and saw that the bird had begun flying from branch to branch, but the squawks, somehow, didn't seem genuine. It was almost as if it was just being playful, and Iris wasn't sure how she knew this, but it was like Fawkes: she just knew, _somehow_.

"I can't speak avian, you ruddy bird," Iris muttered as she kept walking towards her destination. Her legs were starting to get tired. She felt as though she had been walking for hours now, and the annoying sounds the bird was making was starting to get on her nerves. It was as if it was trying to annoy her as much as possible, acting like a complete maniac, constantly squawking, flying down to smack Iris on the back of her head with its wings, letting out half a second sonic screams directed in a direction that wouldn't hurt her ears, but would make her want bury her head in the ground anyway.

Finally, after five more minutes of walking and being smacked upside the head, Iris had enough.

"Do it again, you goddamn peacock. I'll feed you to the fucking squid."

The bird's eyes widened to a comical level, and it stared at her, unblinking, for so long that Iris wasn't sure whether she should laugh or be unnerved. For such an elegant and majestic looking creature, it sure knew how to make itself look absolutely ridiculous.

"Two can play at that game," Iris said, widening her own eyes just as much.

The bird's lower beak dropped, and its eyes remained wide open.

Iris repeated the action, holding back laughter at what her life had become.

The bird stared at her for a moment, its beak still low and its eyes wide again, before slowly tipping over and falling off the branch. There was a soft thud as the creature hit the ground, and Iris rolled her eyes at the theatrics. Were all phoenixes — or phoenix-like birds — like this? Fawkes certainly wasn't _this_ dramatic, that was for sure.

Iris turned and started speed walking away, each step making her come closer and closer to sighing in relief, for she didn't hear anything else from the blasted thing.

Unfortunately, her sense of relief was short lived.

She came across a clearing, and as soon as she stepped into it, she knew this was it. Her Place of Power. Her beacon. Whatever people called it, this was it. She could feel the power radiating from beneath the dirt, and she wasn't quite sure how. She had never felt it before. Before she could get ready, however, a voice spoke from behind her, causing Iris to jump in fright for the third time that day.

"It has been a long time since I, myself, have faced an enigma," said a creature Iris definitely did not expect to see here, one with the body of a lion and the head of a woman, her voice melodic in the way it spoke.

The sphinx stared at Iris, who was pale and wide-eyed, but this time, it wasn't to mock a dramatic bird. A _sphinx_. She had read about them, of course, and she was not pleased to see one. When she had read about the history of Triwizard Tournaments, she had read about one task featuring a sphinx. The sphinx in that task had brutally slaughtered two of the champions.

This sphinx seemed to sense her internal panic. "Don't worry, I won't kill you, but I will ask that you leave."

"Could I — may I use this spot for the next twenty-four hours, please?" Iris said in a weak voice, before quickly adding, "If not, I completely understand and I'll leave you alone."

The sphinx tilted her head. "And why must you use this spot? I am not fond of this spot in particular, but rather this whole part of the forest. I don't like humans much, rude little beings, them."

Iris stared, her jaw slightly hanging, before saying, "I — I apologize for them. Our kind can definitely be rude. I… I just wish to use this spot to meditate for twenty-four hours. I want to become an Animagus, you see, and my beacon — Place of Power, I'm not sure what you'd call it — is here, in this spot."

The eyebrows of the sphinx rose an inch. "Here?" she asked. "Normally, I would say no and tell you to leave, or maybe maul you until you got the message, but you've made me… intrigued."

"Could I —" Iris gave a nervous laugh "— intrigue you enough to convince you to let me stay here for a day?"

"Perhaps. I'll let you use it, if you can answer my riddles," she said, smiling deviously. "It would help soothe my _nerves_ ," she purred.

"A riddle?" Iris asked, confused. Why would a riddle help with anything?

"Oh yes. If you can't answer it, you're not intelligent enough to be here and will likely be foolish enough to try and do something I _wouldn't like_ ," she said in a dangerous tone, and Iris had to fight back the urge to swallow. "But if you are able, you might convince me that you're intelligent enough to know that should you try anything here, anything I don't like, I'll kill you."

Iris nodded slowly. "Of course. Er — what's the riddle?"

"Riddles, sweet one. Plural. Answer all three by telling me the phrase I want, and I'll let you use this spot."

"Okay," Iris said, nodding. "Give me the riddles."

"Walk on the living ones, and not even will they mumble. Walk on the dead ones, however, they mutter and grumble. What are they? Next, what is as light as a feather, but becomes harder to keep the longer you hold it? And finally, what exists when one person has it, but ceases to exist when another gets it? String the answers together, and you will hear of that which you are incapable of hearing."

Iris frowned. She got the third one almost instantly, or at least she thought she did. _Secrets_. Secrets stop existing when another gets it, don't they? She hated that it was the thought of what Pettigrew did that made her think of the answer.

"How many chances do I have? What happens if I'm wrong?" Iris asked.

"You only have one chance at the final answer. Feel free to guess the individual answers wrong all you want, but I likely won't tell you if you're right or wrong. If you're wrong about the final answer, I will force you to leave this place."

"Right. The third has got to be secrets, doesn't it?" Iris asked.

The sphinx only smiled.

She had no idea where to even start with the first riddle, so she moved on to the second one. Working backwards had helped before, maybe it would again. "What becomes harder to keep the longer I hold it? A fart?"

The sphinx let out a laugh. "For amusing me, I will tell you that you are thinking of the wrong hole."

The wrong hole? She assumed the answer wasn't any other gross thing, and that crossed out two holes of hers. Iris blushed thinking of it. Anything involving ears didn't make sense, but her mouth? Her mouth spoke and breathed air, and that had to be it!

"Air, right?" Iris asked, but the sphinx didn't respond.

She had the last two, but it didn't make sense. Blank, air, secrets? She ignored the nonsense for now. It would be best to figure out the first one, but she had no idea what the answer could be. Dead ones that mutter and grumble? A shudder went down her spine as she thought of what she had read about Voldemort in the war. Inferi. He was fond of Inferi, and Inferi might mutter and grumble despite being dead.

But that answer didn't make sense. It wasn't about people or bodies. It had to be of something else that could live and die. Plants came to mind, but she couldn't recall any plants that would mutter and grumble when dead. Perhaps, it didn't mean to literally grumble. Maybe it meant that they just made noise. Still, what plant makes noise only when it dies?

Iris looked up at the sphinx, who had settled herself onto the ground, the leaves crunching beneath her. Iris opened her mouth to speak, but closed it. What the hell could it be?

She heard a trill, and immediately groaned. That bloody bird, couldn't it leave her alone? She turned to glare at the creature, and gave it a look of dislike. Couldn't it have just stayed in that pile of —

"Leaves!" Iris suddenly blurted out.

The sphinx raised an amused eyebrow and looked away.

Leaves air secrets. Well, that made no sense whatsoever. Leaves air out secrets? Leaves breath secrets? No, leaves _breathe_ secrets? None of that made any sense! Is that what she would hear, leaves that breathed out secrets? Leaves that _spoke_ of secrets?

The trees did feel alive here. The way they creaked and groaned as they swayed in the wind, which wasn't nearly as strong as it should have been to make the trees move as they did.

Nonetheless, leaves that breathed secrets? If the trees here spoke some language she couldn't hear or understand, it made sense. But the leaves? And secrets? What kind of bloody secrets did _trees_ have? She instantly felt stupid. If trees could hear people, they'd have all sorts of secrets. But here, in the middle — heart — of the forest? Could they pass on secrets to the other trees? Iris humored herself on how the secrets would eventually become completely different by the end, like a very long version of the telephone game that she had played in muggle school.

"Leaves breathe secrets?" Iris muttered, not realizing she had just given her one chance up until she already said it. Her head snapped up and she was ready to protest that it wasn't her answer, but the sphinx was smiling.

"Very good," she said, to the astonishment of Iris. "Indeed, the leaves here breathe secrets. They whisper in the winds; you need only listen."

"I thought you said I was incapable of hearing whatever it was?" Iris asked, still a little stunned she had gotten the answer right. Hermione was the one to get these kind of things, not her.

"You are. But sit down here, and do what you must. I have not left this part of the forest for years, and yet, I know that of the tournament your school holds. The trees hear it, and by extension, their leaves do, leaves that can travel through the wind, leaves that make their way here, to me. I need only listen to know what goes on in the outside world."

Flabbergasted, Iris could only nod.

"You're welcome to use this spot for as long as you wish," the sphinx said as it put its head down and closed its eyes.

"H-here? You're okay with falling asleep with me here?" Iris asked.

The sphinx smiled, but didn't open her eyes. "While you puzzled yourself over the riddles, I listened to the wind, and it spoke of you, Iris Potter. I need not fear from you."

"Would it possible for me to learn how to —"

"No," the sphinx interrupted. "You're a human. Come back to me when you're not."

"Right. Er — are you going to stay here? I don't know if I'll be attacked while I do this. I can set up a Proximity Ward if you won't. And could you maybe get my attention after twenty-four hours? Or preferably twenty-five just to be sure?"

"I'll make sure you aren't disturbed, and yes, I will wake you," she replied.

Iris had a feeling that the phoenix-like bird, which was on a high branch looking down at them now, would end up disturbing her anyway, sphinx or not.

She cast a Cushioning Charm on where she was going to sit and got down on her knees, resting her backside on the back of her ankles. With the Cushioning Charm in place, her knees didn't hurt and her toes weren't being forced to curl uncomfortably due to the pressure of her body leaning on her feet.

She searched through the small bag she had brought with her, and pulled out the Neutralizing Potion, and drank it. The effects of the Essence of Nature potion were gone within seconds, and Iris cleared her mind. She entered her trance much quicker than she expected, and before she could even think of how odd it all was, her life began flashing before her eyes.

* * *

 **Beauxbatons Carriage**

"Fleur! Where have you been?" asked an agitated Madame Maxime.

Fleur fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I have been out and about, Madame Maxime."

And she had been. Fleur had found herself a nice spot on the peninsula and though she hadn't recreated what she had in France, she had sat there, upon the rocks with small waves from the lake crashing against her bare feet, and enjoyed the sunset. She hadn't seen Iris Potter walk out of the forest, and her spot gave her a view that would let her see the edge of the forest closest to the castle.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Fleur asked.

"Don't cheek me," Madame Maxime said. Fleur opened her mouth to retort, but she beat her to it. "What did you find out about Potter? Did you go and apologize?"

"No, I didn't. She went into ze Forbidden Forest before I could. I could 'ave called out to her, but I was curious as to where she was going. I did overhear 'er talking with 'er friend, zat 'Ermione Granger."

"And?" Madame Maxime asked, curiosity burning in her eyes.

Fleur did roll her eyes this time. "You realize I do not care about zis tournament _nearly_ as much as you do, correct?"

"Answer the question, Fleur," Madame Maxime snapped.

"I don't know! Zey talked about a lot. Iris 'as been doing something, but I do not know what it is."

"Some spell?" Madame Maxime asked, and Fleur didn't know whether to be amused or angry at how she wasn't even bothering to hide the fact that she was obsessed with Fleur winning the tournament. Anything for the glory of Beauxbatons, she supposed.

Fleur sighed. "I don't know. Whatever it was, 'er friend said zat it took —"

" _That_ , Fleur, not zat."

" _That_ it took most people months or years to accomplish, and _that_ the fact Iris 'ad done it within a week was a miracle. _They_ didn't elaborate."

"Something that takes years to accomplish, yet she did it in a week? What else?"

"They spoke of a Basilisk. I remember hearing a rumor of Iris battling a Basilisk, but I assumed it to be false. Apparently, Newt Scamander is updating his book, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , with two new edits. One for Acromantulas being in some forest, and another for the encounter Iris 'ad with a Basilisk."

"So Dumbledore wasn't jesting? Continue," Madame Maxime said, staring at the wall in thought.

"There was something of flesh-eating children," Fleur said, and Madame Maxime's eyes quickly bore into Fleur. "But I must've misunderstood zat. Iris also 'ad some leaf she needed, and potions she did not elaborate on. And a Portkey. She 'ad a Portkey, and I'm not sure 'ow."

"Is that it?"

"No, zere was some ritual Iris was to do or something, but again, no elaboration. And she can cast a Proximity Ward, large enough to cover this carriage."

Madame Maxime's eyes flared. "She is casting spells on our carriage?"

"What? No, zat's not what I meant. She is just capable. Mon Dieu, you are paranoid. And zere were other spells zey mentioned, but I did not recognize their incantations."

"What were they?" Madame Maxime asked.

"I don't remember the second one, but Iris said it could burn 'er 'ands or something if she was not careful. It was a two part incantation, and both words started with the letter A, but zat is all I remember. The other one was called _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_."

Madame Maxime's eyes widened. " _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_?" she whispered.

"What?" Fleur asked, concerned. "What does it do?"

" _Dragons_ ," Madame Maxime said quietly.

"Dragons? What of zem?"

" _Them_ , Fleur, not zem. _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_ is a shield spell, used to stop dragonfire."

Fleur's eyes widened as well at this. " _Dragonfire_? I thought a third of dragon 'andlers could not even produce a spell to stop dragonfire?"

"That is correct, it is a very difficult spell to learn. And should you learn it, it does not mean you can use it well enough against dragons. It is like the Patronus. Producing it without dementors around will be much easier than with, just as Praesidio Incaendium is much easier to produce when you do not have dragonfire battering the shield. This might mean that dragons will be involved in a task if she is attempting to learn that, however foolishly."

"What do you mean, foolishly?"

"She is foolish to attempt to learn that spell, as the first task is five days away and given the history of the Triwizard Tournament, large dangerous creatures are usually in the first task —"

Fleur didn't bother saying anything, because it sure sounded as though Iris had already learned it, and she would rather not have Madame Maxime harping on about her learning another difficult spell. She didn't feel it necessary to mention Sirius Black, either.

Instead, Fleur got up and left Madame Maxime to her rambling, not bothering to say goodbye or goodnight. Madame Maxime's hunger for fame and glory was making Fleur realize that there was a chance that her headmistress didn't really care for her, that if she wasn't as skilled as she was and capable of being the champion, Madame Maxime wouldn't talk to her at all. This depressing thought made the feeling of loneliness become heavier.

* * *

 **The Heart of the Forbidden Forest**

It felt as though she had been meditating for hours. A part of her wondered if those hours would turn out to be days in real life, but that would be ridiculous. The sphinx would surely get her attention. And if she didn't —

No, she had to stay focused. She had to let the memories keep coming. By this point, most of her life had flashed by. The tedious and uneventful parts, such as the daily things one would do, flashed by quickly, not giving Iris enough time to even see what part of her life it was.

When the important bits came up, they'd linger for a second, as though somebody else was flicking through her memories and pausing at certain parts, almost as though to judge her. Metaphors aside, it really did feel as if somebody was there with her, watching her memories with her. She didn't know why, but it unnerving. Whoever it was, whatever it was, it wasn't flicking through the memories. It was just there. Watching.

She only let her thoughts linger on it for a second before focusing again on the memories, which were beginning to get closer to now. She was witnessing the Quidditch World Cup. The Dark Mark. The arrival at Hogwarts. Moody's first lessons. The Goblet of Fire. Her name. The second Basilisk. The training. Sirius. The trek through the Forbidden Forest. The shadows. The sphinx.

Now.

Everything vanished. There was nothing that she could see in her mind.

She still felt that other presence, however, and it disturbed her. She dug deep inside her, trying to find whatever it was. She mentally waded through her mind, which was as empty as it could have been. Then she saw it.

Red eyes.

Iris only had a second to panic, but no more to react. The other presence, the one that had unnerved her, the one with the all too familiar red eyes, it lunged at her. She couldn't do anything to stop it. She tried clearing her mind, but this didn't even feel like her mind anymore. It felt deeper. The journal had said soul searching. Was this it?

She had no idea how to fend off this form of Voldemort. She knew there was a part of him inside her, Dumbledore had literally told her so in her second year, but she didn't think it was like this.

Suddenly, a memory assaulted her mind.

She was in a cave, and there were two children with her. They had frightened expressions. A body? No, bodies. There were the dead bodies of animals lying in front of them, a dozen or so of them. The two children wanted to leave. They were terrified, Iris could see it clearly, and she wanted to comfort them, but she only felt some sick sense of pleasure at seeing their fear.

They tried to leave, the children, but they couldn't. She was making them stay. The entrance leading to outside couldn't be found anymore by them, but Iris could see it clearly. Something was making the two children, who couldn't have been over the age of ten, not see it. The boy walked up to her and was demanding something, most likely to be let out, but Iris couldn't hear anything but the blood pulsing in her ears.

Then, the two children fell, their bodies below their necks no longer working. It wasn't a body-bind curse, not one that Iris had ever seen, at the least. They could still move their necks, they could still scream. And they did.

She looked over to the dead animals and lifted a hand towards them.

The dead rabbit's legs twitched.

The dead cat's tail twitched.

One by one, the rabbits, cats, and snakes began moving again, and after a moment, they all stood. Iris smiled, cruelly. She didn't want to, but she couldn't stop it. She looked over to the children, who had stopped screaming, if only out of pure terror. She loved it. She loved the fear she could smell from them, and she wanted more.

Slowly, the dead but animated animals began making their way towards the two children, who could only stare with wide eyes. Slowly, they began crawling over the two, and the whimpers… Oh, the whimpers sung to her. She let the animals crawl over their faces, at which point they finally regained back their voices and began screaming.

Iris had enough. It wasn't her who was doing this, it was _him_. She pushed the memory away as hard as she could, and it went… It went only to be replaced by another.

She was looking into the open eyes of a man that looked similar to the Tom Riddle she had met in the Chamber, only much older.

She had a little girl squirming in front of her on the floor, her back bending at a nearly unnatural angle as she screamed and screamed until her vocal chords gave out. Only then did she let go of the spell.

She was telling a redheaded woman to move aside, but she would not obey, so she killed her, despite the pathetic wishes of one of his servants.

Yellow eyes stared at her as she commanded the beast to go above, into the castle, and kill. Then a girl with glasses laid on the ground, dead, in the girls' lavatory. Pleasure coursed through her veins, and she begun the ritual.

Memory after memory flashed in front of her eyes, and she couldn't do anything to stop it. She didn't even understand any of them anymore. They were all too quick, too vague, but nonetheless, Iris was forced to watch the blurs of memories pass on by. She resigned herself to letting it all play out. The journal said to let the memories play out, and she couldn't begin to think on how disgusting it all was. She couldn't begin to fathom how she had these memories. That would all have to wait until it was done.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The memories of Voldemort will not be what turns Iris turn the grayer path. Nor will she get Voldemort's memories. She will only keep the memory of the cave and a few of the murders, but that's all. This isn't one of those fics where she gets his memories and becomes great at magic or whatever.


	7. A Haunting History

**Author's Notes:**

I just want to give a reminder that Iris is 14 years old. She's a hormonal _teenager_ , so no, I don't think it's unrealistic that she or the others curse, talk about sexual topics, are rebellious or reckless, etc. I'm also well aware Charlus and Dorea Potter aren't canon in terms of Harry's grandparents. I just don't give a shit.

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

 **A Haunting History**

 **1994, November 20, Hagrid's Hut.**

"Where's Iris?" Hagrid asked, looking at the door as though expecting her to walk through.

"Er — she's… _busy_ ," Hermione said, and both Ron and Hagrid looked at her pointedly. She really wasn't a great liar.

"Where is she?" Ron asked.

"Not inter any trouble, is she?" Hagrid asked worriedly.

"Oh no," Hermione lied. "Not at all. She's actually nearer than you think. _Hopefully_ ," she whispered.

She really hated that she couldn't be as stubborn as Iris at times. Going into the Forbidden Forest, Portkey or not, was reckless and foolish, but even if she did everything in her power to stop Iris from doing it, she would figure out a way to do it anyway. Iris had always been a _little_ reckless, but ever since her name had come out of the goblet, her recklessness ramped up so much that even a stereotypical Gryffindor would pale at her lack of self-preservation.

Hermione knew why, of course. Iris wasn't expecting to live to the end of the year. The thought of Iris dying had always made Hermione's heart ache, but she had gotten somewhat used to it over the last three years. It was the fact that Iris had seemed to accept the idea that this was her last year on Earth that broke Hermione's heart. Iris was far too important to her, despite the fact the girl would cause her to gain gray hairs far earlier than she should. Not even Ron truly accepted her for who she was. Despite the fact Iris joked about her flaws and sometimes even got upset, Iris nonetheless loved her like a sister.

Or at least she thought as a sister. Hermione had her suspicions before, but now? They might have not talked about it, but Iris definitely wasn't hiding her sexuality anymore, at least not from her. Ginny too, it seemed, if the flirting in the Great Hall was any indication. She had seen what traditionalists in this world thought about homosexuality, though, and it wasn't nice.

No, it was definitely as a sister, and nothing more. Hermione thought, a bit bitterly, that Iris wouldn't even find her attractive. It wasn't that she wanted Iris to — that would make things awkward — but she couldn't delude herself: she had always been a little jealous of her best friend's looks. Her new normal sized teeth had boosted her confidence, sure, but the years of being called a beaver, chipmunk, and numerous other insults had already made its mark on her self-esteem.

Nothing about her stood out. Her hair wasn't an inky black, nor her eyes a rich green with an attractive limbal ring. Iris might have not realized it yet, but she was indeed growing to become a beautiful woman. And what did she, Hermione, have? Her hair was a boring bushy brown. Her eyes weren't unique. Nothing stood out. Okay, maybe she was more than a _little_ —

"Hermione?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow and snapping Hermione out of her thoughts. "Hermione, what's she got herself into?"

"She's having womanly problems, okay," Hermione said quickly, hoping the lie would work.

It did. Both Hagrid and Ron went a shade of pink and immediately changed the subject. But it was five minutes later, after they had talked of their classes and what they were expecting from the Triwizard Tournament, when Hagrid changed the subject back to Iris.

"Oh Hermione, could yeh tell Iris ter come here tonigh' at midnigh'. I have somethin' important ter show her, somethin' ter — er — help her," Hagrid said, smiling oddly.

"Is this another hint to the tournament, Hagrid?" Ron asked.

"No!" Hagrid said. "No, nothin' ter do with tha' of course."

Hermione was chewing on her bottom lip. She hadn't told Ron what Iris was doing. She was afraid his jealousy would come up again. Iris had told her what Ron had seen in the Mirror of Erised. If Iris had really completed the hardest step within a week… And now there was this. Would Iris even be back by midnight? She left in the evening the day before, but who knew how long it would take for her to find what she needed, and the trip back might take long as well.

"I'll tell her, Hagrid, but if she's still feeling _unwell_ , she might not be able to make it."

* * *

 **The Heart of the Forbidden Forest**

Iris opened her eyes.

An orange glow shone through the branches of the trees, bathing the world in front of her with the same color. Despite the few memories of Tom Riddle that she had just witnessed, she felt pleasantly content with the warm colors of the forest. She felt a heavy weight, something she hadn't really noticed, lift off her shoulder. Turning her head over her shoulder, she saw the sphinx smiling down at her.

"It has been an hour past a full day. Twenty-five hours since you've closed your eyes. Was it enough?"

"Yes," Iris said confidently. Her memories and Voldemort's had all passed by leaving what felt like a few hours of reflection on what she had seen. Her memories were nothing new, but Voldemort's… It was beyond disturbing, and not even the memories themselves, though those were plenty horrifying. Yes, Dumbledore had told her, in her second year, that Voldemort had put a piece of himself inside her, and with that came the ability to speak to snakes, but he didn't say she had his memories stored deep inside her too.

She was immensely grateful that the majority of the memories flashed by too fast for her to see them. She still saw five clear ones, though, and that was enough to disgust her. The sadistic pleasure she felt, the look of fear on the faces of those children, the empty feeling that felt satisfying somehow after the murders of Myrtle, what must have been Voldemort's father, and her own mother. She felt sick just thinking about it. She had felt satisfied with her own mother's death. It made her want to puke.

But it was all over now. Best of all, she didn't feel any different. She was afraid that she would somehow gain the personality traits of Voldemort, but her worries were unfounded. She didn't feel pleasure thinking about torturing the little girl, she felt the utmost revulsion. She did wonder if this unexpected addition would interfere in her Animagus progress or the form itself. Either way, there was likely nothing she could do about it. There was no section in her father's journal titled:

 _ **Got the Dark Lord Inside Your Head?**_

 _ **Here's What to Do!**_

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. Even in the process of doing something that only a few people do, the Animagus process, she had to be an anomaly. An oddity. An outsider. She didn't want to call herself a freak, but the word slowly floated to the front of her mind anyway.

Was this really worth it? She was past the hardest part now, and while keeping a mandrake leaf in her mouth for a month would be incredibly annoying, there was no point in stopping now. She wished she could somehow know her Animagus form before she actually changed for the first time. What if it was something ridiculous? What if she was a penguin? Or a slug? Likely not, but she didn't want to turn into something she would never use, making all the trouble she had gone through completely pointless.

She could imagine it now: Voldemort chasing her through a forest, and suddenly he comes across a giraffe. Would he know it was her? She didn't want to die as a giraffe.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for letting me stay here, and for not, you know, mauling me to death."

"Do you think so little of me?" the sphinx replied, no longer smiling. Unlike lions, her fur was a mixture of light brown, vibrant orange, and an auburn red. With the orange glow from the sunset, it made her look fiery. Iris winced at the thought of insulting someone who looked so majestic and powerful.

She sighed. "I can't seem to keep up pleasantries even if I try, can I?"

A melodic and beautiful laugh erupted from the sphinx. "You hardly know me, why should I expect you to think little or plenty of me? I was only jesting. You shouldn't leave yet, you'll meet dangers on your path back should you do so. Stay. Enjoy this part of the forest for a few more hours. I rarely have visitors that I can speak with."

And so the two talked, and Iris actually found herself enjoying the conversation. Iris spoke of the troubles she was facing, and the sphinx — who she learned was named Seraphina — would offer her advice. It was usually, ' _Slaughter them and your problem will be solved,_ ' but sometimes, the advice would be something Iris thought she could take. In return, Seraphina would complain about her troubles. Iris didn't have much to say on these matters, however, as she didn't know what _she_ would do if a griffin tried entering her 'territory,' much less if she was a sphinx.

The phoenix-like bird even came down and let Iris pet it — or her, as Seraphina had pointed out. It was a hybrid between a phoenix and a thunderbird, apparently, and it spent ' _more than enough_ ' time in the heart of the forest. When it wasn't trying to infuriate her, Iris actually liked her — enough to think of naming her despite the fact that she never planned on returning to this part of the forest again. Walking through those shadows was enough of a deterrent.

"You should name her something that means storm, thunder, lightning, light, flash, or —" Seraphina said before Iris interrupted her.

"I've no idea what names mean what, though. Unless you count the names of moons, stars, constellations, and nebulas. Astronomy's good for something, I suppose."

"Well, what are those? She is the color of the night sky, so a name from a star, for example, would be quite fitting, don't you agree?"

"Ones that can be used for females? Carina — doesn't fit, Cassiopeia — too long, Lyra — doesn't fit a bird — yes, yes, you're not a simple bird, _stop_ _pecking_ _me_."

Seraphina laughed.

Iris thought for a moment. "Faye — I know a Fay already, Nova — could work seeing as the ruddy thing blinds me every time it does its teleportation thing, Pandora — maybe! I kinda like Pandora."

"Yes, Pandora is quite nice and fitting, I think. She is quite gifted after all," Seraphina murmured as she laid down.

"Let's see," Iris continued. "Luna — I think there's already a Luna at my school, maybe —"

"How about Astra?" Seraphina asked. "It means ' _of the stars_ ' so it would fit."

"Astra…" Iris muttered. "Astra, Pandora…"

But before Iris could make a decision, a brown owl soared through the air, screeching, and landed on top of the head of Seraphina, who tried getting it off by blowing on it.

"Are all avian creatures this bothersome?" Seraphina asked, lazily swiping one of her paws at the owl, who leapt off Seraphina's head and landed onto the outstretched arm of Iris instead.

Iris giggled. "Is that letter for me?" she asked, seeing the envelope. The owl hooted and extended its legs. Out of the corner of her eye, Iris saw the phoenix scowl at the owl — at least, as much as a phoenix can scowl at something. Iris opened the envelope, took the letter out, and read it.

 _Dear Girl Who Hopefully Still Lives_

 _The reason for this letter is that Hagrid wants to see you tonight at midnight. It's something to do with the tournament, given Hagrid's reaction to when Ron asked him if it was something to do with the tournament…_

 _Speaking of Ron, should I tell him what you're up to? You know how he gets when you actually try in class and in homework. Not that I'm discouraging you! Are you even reading this? You've probably learned to just zone out during these parts of my letters._

 _Midnight, the Beauxbatons carriage, meet Hagrid there. I don't know why he wants you to meet him there instead of his home, but that's where he needs you._

 _I hope everything went well, and I do sincerely hope that I was wrong and that you did not only stay unharmed, but that you really are at that step. If you are, if you've already accomplished it, then you realize you've likely broken a record, right? In all of history? Of course, you'll probably despise that fact and will end up prolonging the process just to ruin it._

 _It feels a bit weird without you. It's weird saying that, I go entire summers without you. Maybe it's because your summers don't consist of terrifying dark forests. Then again, knowing you... But make it back soon, I'm getting worried._

 _Oh, and we should honestly just talk about it. I know you'd just change the topic or Stun me if I brought it up in person, so I'll do it here. You're interested in girls!_

 _There. It doesn't change a thing! I still love you (like a sister), and it doesn't bother me one bit. Though, I will tease you. Iris Potter fancies Daphne Greengrass! Iris Potter fancies Daphne Greengrass! Iris Potter fancies Daphne Greengrass!_

 _Your wand's out and "Incendio" is on the tip of your tongue, isn't it? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I know the traditionalists would hate you for not finding yourself a good ol' husband who can continue the Potter line. There's blood adoptions that can work just fine for continuing lines anyway, isn't there?_

 _Hoping you're not all alone and scared, bleeding out on the cold forest ground,_

 _Hermione_

 _P.S. Dying a bit on the inside, making fun of your possible death and all. Really, I'd feel quite terrible._

Iris stared at the letter for another moment after finishing, her heart beating fast. She didn't know whether she should laugh, blush more than she already was, or eradicate the letter with Fiendfyre — not that she knew how to cast it, of course, and she imagined Seraphina would be quite put out with her if she managed to burn down the entire forest after only a day.

Iris took the muggle pen that came with the envelope, turned the parchment over, and wrote a letter back:

 _Dear Hermy-Herms (yeah, screw you too),_

 _I'll try and meet Hagrid there. He'll love the manticore I'm bringing back from the forest._

 _Everything went well. Had a bit of a hiccup with Voldemort showing up, but it's all okay._

 _Can I at least profess my love for you?_

 _Not really sincerely,_

 _Girl Who Indeed Still Lives_

 _P.S. Yes, I know it'll drive you crazy trying to figure out if I'm being serious or not. I'll give you a hint. Two of the three above are jokes. One is completely serious. Have fun!_

Satisfied with her letter, Iris gave it to the owl and watched as the owl flew away. She turned to look at the curious sphinx. "I've got to head out. Hagrid wants to see me at midnight, so it's best if I —"

"Iris Potter?" Seraphina asked, when Iris stopped speaking and grew pale.

"Is — is there another way out of here without going through those shadows?" Iris asked, a slight tremor in her voice that she couldn't keep out.

Seraphina frowned. "No, this place is surrounded by it."

The thought of going back there made Iris's hands trembled slightly. She did not want to go back that way. She didn't know exactly what it was that terrified her. She had been beaten to nearly an inch of her life before; she had slain a basilisk; she had faced a hundred dementors, all making her relive her worst memories. Maybe it was just the unknown aspect of it. Humans didn't fear the dark because of its color, but rather the fact that it let _anything_ lurk in it.

She also felt extremely claustrophobic in there. When she was in the shadows before, it almost felt as though she was in the cupboard again. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was all aspects of it that terrified her. All she knew was that she had never before screamed like she did in the shadows. A moment of panic, a short shriek out of fright, yes and yes. But to scream like she had, out of complete fear? That was a first.

She had faced death before. Death didn't necessarily scare her. She didn't want it to happen, but nobody was going to hear her screaming about trying to stay alive — at least not if it was herself that was dying. No, it wasn't the threat of death that overtook her in the shadows. It was something else, almost like a fear for her soul or her very being. She had a dreadful feeling that if the centaur had not saved her, she would not have simply died in there.

A hand had tried to reach her, but it was stopped by the invisible barrier. It was a human hand as well. It was the thought of a normal human such as herself being taken over — driven insane — and losing not her life, but something far worse. It was _that_ idea that horrified her.

"I'd really rather not go back through there," Iris said in a forced calm. "Isn't there a giant nearby that could just… _chuck me_? I know a spell to stop myself from really becoming one with the earth," she said, chuckling nervously.

Seraphina stared at Iris for a moment before she turned her head to look at the phoenix, who tilted her head at the sphinx. "I do not see why you couldn't."

The phoenix, who Iris realized hadn't been given a name yet, trilled.

At Iris's confused look, Seraphina clarified, "She will take you to your school. Your headmaster has a phoenix of his own, the only phoenix currently bonded as a companion to a human. Therefore, your headmaster hasn't placed any magic to stop phoenix travel. Grab any part of her and —" Iris grabbed the front of the phoenix's face "— visualize where you want to go, and she will take you. Thank you for the lovely conversation, Iris Potter. Do not think of that as an invitation to come whenever. I do like the quiet," she said, smiling pleasantly.

"And thank you," Iris said, beginning to visualize the area around the carriage, "for letting me stay here, and —"

But before she could finish her sentence, a bright flash nearly blinded her and she was whisked away from the heart of the forest. She felt an electric tingling spread throughout her body as she was squeezed through an impossibly small hole. The tingling increased until she felt like electricity was running its course through her. There was a feeling of pins and needles, except intensified. Just when the nauseating feeling almost became outright pain, it stopped.

She landed in a heap of her own limbs on hard earth.

"Mon dieu!" exclaimed a voice from above her.

Iris looked up, groaning in pain, and her vision began to lose its bright spots. When compared to the shadows, the figure above had to be the most beautiful being to ever exist. Light blue eyes stared down at her in shock, and silvery-blonde hair cascaded down Fleur Delacour's face, wavier than Iris had seen it before.

"How about merde?" Iris asked weakly.

A humorous sounding trill sounded from above Fleur. Both of the girls' heads snapped up. Fleur's eyes widened in awe while one of Iris's eyes twitched in agitation. Out of all the ways to magically travel — actually no, even if she was to include muggle travel, phoenix travel was by far the worst.

Iris began to lift herself up from the ground when a soft hand grabbed her elbow and helped her up. Before Iris could get a word out, Fleur spoke.

"I do not think I should even ask where it is that you've come from, as you are quite the enigma, but I 'ave been looking for you for too long now."

Iris tensed slightly, and prepared herself for insults. Most people who spent a lot of time looking for her, who she didn't know well, usually wanted to kill her. It was unlikely Fleur would do so — right? — but she figured she wouldn't like what was coming anyway.

"I need to apologize for 'ow I treated you the day your name was drawn from the Goblet of Fire. I thought that if you were entered, I would 'ave never come here to this dreary and dreadful castle."

"Oh. Right," Iris said awkwardly. She wasn't sure what to really say. She apologized and then insulted Hogwarts. Not at all in the mood to argue, she said, "Yeah, don't worry about it. I shouldn't have called you a… I don't even remember. I think the fact that I can't even remember who I've assigned certain insults to says a lot. Point is, don't worry about it."

Fleur smiled gently. "I was afraid you'd brush me off like before, after the weighing of ze wands."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Iris said. "I just don't like Rita Skeeter. She wrote an article about my friend's dad, made him look like a fool, and he really didn't deserve that — he's a good person." Iris sighed, and continued, "Still shouldn't have lost my temper with her though."

"No, likely not," Fleur said as she sat down on the steps leading up to the Beauxbatons, and patted the spot next to her. When Iris sat down, Fleur continued, "I read the article. Don't worry, I don't care much for this tournament, but Cassius Warrington and Viktor Krum did not look very 'appy about what it said. Though, I think that was the purpose, non?"

Iris nodded and checked the time — Hagrid would be here soon. "Get the other champions to turn on me, yeah. So, why were you following me yesterday?"

Fleur's mouth opened slightly as she stared at Iris. "You knew?"

"Sorta. I knew somebody was following me, and I felt a pull, like I do now. I felt it before too, whenever you were nearby. It's easy to ignore after feeling it the first time, but yes, I could sense that you or some other girl with veela blood was nearby," Iris said.

"You felt my — but how? You are a girl."

Iris turned her head the other way to pet the phoenix, who had hopped down from atop the carriage to next to Iris. "I produced a Patronus at the age of thirteen, is it that much of a stretch to say I can sense veela?"

"And a Dragonfire Shield?" Fleur asked.

"Heard that bit too then? How often do you stalk me?" Iris asked.

"From breakfast to noon, every Tuesday," Fleur replied without missing a beat.

Iris's lips twitched, and she noticed for the first time that Fleur's English had improved since the last time she had heard her speak. "I can. Whether or not it'll hold up against a dragon is another question though — and no, I don't know for certain if dragons are involved, but I've a strong suspicion," Iris said. Fleur opened her mouth to speak, but Iris interrupted, "Speak of the devil, here comes the man who ran out of his hut, a sweaty mess, the second I asked if dragons were involved."

Fleur's eyes turned to where Iris was looking, and she saw the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid, making his way towards them.

"All righ', Iris?" Hagrid bellowed from a distance. "Makin' friends, eh? Good, good, it's good ter see friendship across schools, ain't it? Miss Delacour, good ter see yeh."

Iris nodded and smiled at Hagrid. "I'm doing alright —"

"Blimey!" Hagrid shouted in surprise and awe. "Is tha' a black phoenix?!"

Iris smiled, "She's dark blue, but yes. She's a phoenix, or something like that."

Fleur leaned over to get a better look, and Hagrid looked like he was going to faint.

"A dark blue phoenix? Never seen one tha' weren' red! Where did yer get her? She's a beauty!" Hagrid exclaimed.

She didn't really want to tell _anyone_ that she had been in the heart of the Forbidden Forest, so she said, "I was out and about" — Fleur snorted with laughter — "and needed to get to the carriage in time" — Fleur looked at her curiously — "and she came out of the branches and offered a ride, in her own little way of course."

The phoenix chirped in agreement, playing along. Hagrid just nodded along, still staring at the bird in awe.

Suddenly, the carriage door swung open and whacked both Fleur and Iris on the back of the head. Iris turned around to curse whoever did it, then noticed it was Madame Maxime. That almost didn't stop her; however, figuring that she was already on thin ice with the headmistress of Beauxbatons and the headmaster of Durmstrang, Iris kept her mouth shut.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Fleur," Madame Maxime said, ignoring Iris altogether. She looked back to Hagrid with an innocent smile. "Hello Hagrid, might we go on the walk you promised?"

Hagrid nodded vigorously, and because of the light pouring out from the carriage, Iris noticed the hideous suit Hagrid was wearing. She didn't have it in herself to say anything about it.

"Er — yeh," Hagrid said, then shifted uncomfortably as he looked at Iris. "Iris, I have ter speak ter yeh fer a second, mind if we go over here?" he said, pointing to the side of the carriage.

"Yeah, sure," Iris said. She waited until they were well behind the carriage. "What's up, Hagrid?"

"Listen, Iris, have yer got yer cloak with yeh?" Hagrid said. Iris nodded slowly. "Good, good, put it on an' follow me an' Madame Maxime. Don't ask questions, just put it on behind the carriage an' follow us, will yeh?" Hagrid said very quickly, then he turned around and began walking to Madame Maxime, who was talking to Fleur.

Iris walked swiftly out of sight and tossed her cloak over herself, then followed Hagrid. She saw that Hagrid and Madame Maxime were already walking towards the Forbidden Forest. She began to follow them when she heard a weary sigh from behind her. She turned and saw Fleur, chin in one of her hands, and on the steps leading up to the carriage door again.

Two thoughts popped into her head.

The first was that she felt bad. Madame Maxime had apparently said something to upset Fleur, and Fleur had apologized to Iris already. If she was honest with herself, there was still a bit of resentment there, but enough to stop her from taking Fleur with her?

The second thought was that when two people fit under an Invisibility Cloak, they had to get _very_ close to each other. Iris would have felt guilty about thinking of something like that, but the thought of comforting Fleur simply to comfort her _did_ cross her mind first, so it really all balanced out.

"Fleur?" Iris said, and Fleur startled.

"Iris?"

Iris took off her cloak. "Listen, Hagrid told me he wanted to show me something, likely something related to the tournament. My cloak can fit two, wanna come? I don't mind, not like you'll stand a chance against me anyway," Iris said, her eyes full of mirth.

Fleur smirked, "Oh? You are going to cheat?"

"Oh, please, Madame Maxime is going to tell you what she sees anyway. Why not see it for yourself?"

Fleur sat there, thinking for a moment.

"Come on!" Iris urged. "I've already lost sight of the two, and they're not exactly hard to miss, are they?"

Fleur took Iris's hand and slid under the cloak, and the two began walking towards where Iris had seen Hagrid and Madame Maxime last. They caught up after a few minutes, and began to follow from a safe enough distance where _they_ couldn't be heard, but the conversation between Hagrid and Madame Maxime could.

"Are they _flirting_?" Iris whispered to Fleur.

"Non, 'Agrid is flirting. Madame Maxime is likely only using 'Agrid to 'er own advantage."

Iris frowned. Hagrid was great, he really was, but he was stupidly easy to take advantage of. And now that Iris actually paid attention, she saw that it really was just Hagrid that was doing the flirting, or the closest thing to flirting. Madame Maxime was only nodding and giving fake laughs, and constantly asking Hagrid questions about the tournament.

They had walked for another five minutes before Iris began to wonder where it was that Hagrid was taking them. All he had done up to this point was flirt to this woman. Was Hagrid an exhibitionist?

"I really hope this isn't Hagrid's way of giving me _the talk_ ," Iris muttered to herself.

Fleur snickered beside her, a little too loudly too; Madame Maxime stopped and turned around, her sharp eyes scanning the ground. She pulled out her wand — Iris knew the Summoning Charm didn't work on her cloak unless she was doing it — and opened her mouth, but before she could say any incantation, a distant but loud roar filled the Forbidden Forest. A moment later, three more joined in.

 _Dragons_. It had to be.

Iris turned to look at Fleur, and saw that she was pale. Did Fleur recognize the sound?

"You were right…" Fleur whispered.

"Unfortunately," Iris whispered as the two slowly and carefully followed Hagrid and Madame Maxime towards the sounds of the roaring. "Ron's brother, Charlie, he works with dragons, you see — he said he would see us much sooner than we'd expect. With the tournament's history of having magical creatures in the first task, I made the logical conclusion — and if I was wrong, no harm done. The shield can stop all other fire based attacks as well. I think"

"You can really cast it?"

Iris hummed her confirmation.

Fleur waited a moment before asking, "May I ask, 'ow long did it take you to learn it?"

"Um, since the second of November, I think? It took around two and a half weeks, I think, for me to be able to keep it up no matter what Hermione threw at me," Iris said. Iris saw Fleur's face, and added, "But I was working on it literally _non-stop_. Probably too late for you given the fact that you only have three days, but I did spend a ton of time on it. And a lot of pain. Hermione engulfed me in flames more than once. I had to drink anti-flame potions before practicing."

"That is still incredible, to learn it so quick, I mean," Fleur said.

"I probably won't even use it," Iris said, feeling her neck going red. "What Hermione can cast and dragonfire itself is very different. I don't think I'm capable of stopping actual dragonfire, and I've spent over twenty hours practicing the spell in the last three or so weeks. I'm not some prodigy…"

"You don't need so much modesty."

"What I need is a drink, Fleur, if these turn out to be dragons," Iris said, trying to change the subject.

"You are far too young!" Fleur said, trying to look outraged, but it was a pitiful attempt, really.

"Really? We're going to do the whole young thing again?" Iris asked sardonically.

Fleur winced, then smiled slightly.

"Come on," Iris said as they moved forward. "After this, you can use your veela powers to convince Aberforth to give us free drinks."

Fleur immediately shot back with, "And you can use your fame to convince 'im to get on 'is knees and worship your 'oliness."

Iris's eye twitched. "I am not oily!" she said in a mock French accent.

"Non, definitely not. You are not slick enough to get away with objectifying me."

"Quit that," Iris said.

"Quit what?"

"Being better than me at this bantering thing. I'm usually the one that's best at it. You're stealing my thunder."

"Oh, stealing your thunder? Maybe call that phoenix bird of yours again?" Fleur said, elbowing her in the ribs lightly.

"Oh, damn it," Iris sighed.

"I'll stop when you stop changing the subject. You are too modest. You're skilled, and brave from what I 'ave —"

"No, I'm not. I'm still terrified of what I'll have to face," Iris said softly. "I'm still fourteen, and I haven't a bloody clue as to if I'm going to be alive _in a few days_ , much less by the end of the tournament."

She sounded almost desperate by the end and she knew it. She took a deep breath and tried to relieve herself of the stress as Fleur watched on. It was all starting to get to her. The first task was days away, and she didn't think she was ready. If it wasn't the fact she had Fleur pressing up to her side and two giant people in front of her, the fact that she was in the dark Forbidden Forest again would have likely tipped her over the edge. The fact she was here in the forest did still have an effect on her. It still unnerved her now, more so than it ever did before, now that she knew what kind of horrors laid within.

"This you is much different than the one I saw those two other days," Fleur said.

Iris felt something in the air change, but she felt too bothered to think on it.

"The other me hides the stress and panic behind a veil of humor and indifference," she said, a bit surprised by her own honesty with Fleur, who really was still a stranger.

"But the stress and panic is still there, non?"

"The stress and panic is still always there, yes, lurking just out of sight, waiting for the opportune moment to jump out and begin the assault. I won't be surprised if I end up having a panic attack on the twenty-fourth."

"But, 'ave you not faced down many dangerous things? Dementors, acromantulas? A basilisk, non? If it came down to a dragon or —"

"Yes," Iris said, more hotly than she intended to, as she stepped over a branch.

They were getting closer to the dragons.

"But I didn't expect it," she said, "I didn't have days — weeks, really, of a constant reminder that I was going to face it, that I had a damn good chance of dying soon. The basilisk _just happened_. And it's not as if that encounter didn't leave its mark — physically and mentally. I've got a permanent ugly scar from it, and I still have nightmares about it, even now, a year and a half after it happened. I was literally seconds away from dying from the venom, and it was only —"

"Venom?" Fleur interrupted. "But 'ow? You would 'ave died?"

" _I nearly did die_. Phoenix tears saved me. That's the thing. Everybody puts me on a damn pedestal because of things like that. _Ooh, Iris Potter slayed a_ _basilisk, she's spectacular._ What no one mentions is that a phoenix tore the eyes out of the basilisk first, allowing me to stop running around with my eyes closed, my arms stretched out in front of me, looking like a damn idiot.

"What no one mentions is that I didn't bravely charge at the basilisk, a cape billowing behind me. I dived and dodged desperately, whimpering nearly every time. I tripped over myself as the basilisk blindly lunged over and over at where it thought I stood. I didn't courageously jump on top of the basilisk to slay it. I jumped onto its back and it began dragging me through underwater pipes, where I _had_ to hold on, because if I didn't, I'd drown. And when it exited the pipes, before I even got a chance to stab it, it threw me off. I broke a bone or two from the fall.

"I killed it simply by raising my arms with the sword. The basilisk lunged right at me, and therefore right at the sword. The impact broke several ribs, and a fang pierced my right arm. I didn't grit my teeth throughout the pain. I didn't flash a victorious smile. I screamed in pain. I kept screaming, moaning, whimpering, and spitting out blood _everywhere_. When the basilisk venom began running through my veins, I didn't raise my chin at death. I bowed my head and _tried_ to cry, because of the pain, the sight of all the veins in my right arm turning black, for Ginny, who had been taken by the heir of Slytherin and wasn't waking up.

"I used the last of my strength to destroy him — the Heir. Then Fawkes — the phoenix — healed me. No one ever mentions that I had immeasurable help, that I nearly burst out in sobs at the thought of dying — that I would have, had the pain not been mind numbingly bad, that I've woken up crying in the middle of the night since, that —"

Iris stopped, realizing how much she had just told another champion. She didn't look at Fleur, who had been silent throughout her whole rant. She did not mean to tell Fleur all of this.

"Why did I just do that?" Iris asked quietly.

Fleur hesitated. "Likely my veela heritage. It convinces people to show their true feelings… It is why boys stare at me as they do, being part-veela causes them to show their true feelings on what zey are thinking, which is usually me whenever I walk into ze room," Fleur said slowly. "The veela part of me does not cause the attraction, it only brings out people's true feelings — an unattractive veela would not 'ave people leer at 'er, only say or do what is on zeir mind. I did not zink you would say zat, I did not expect it, I only wanted —"

She stopped at Iris's glare.

Iris whipped the cloak off the both of them. "You had no right to try and influence my mind," she said. She couldn't find it within herself to be that angry. Pity, looks of worry and concern, attempts at finding solutions: these were all things Iris did not want. She saw no pity or concern in Fleur's face though. Still, she opened her mouth far more than she should, and it often got her into trouble, but private thoughts such as _those —_ they stayed far away from her vocal chords.

"I'll see you later, Fleur," Iris said coolly.

Fleur frowned. "It is not as though I 'ad a choice. You shouldn't be influenced at all by it. Do you believe I _enjoy_ 'aving men stare at me like I am a Quidditch broom? Only, they want _me_ to ride them, not the other way around."

Iris sighed, trying to ignore what Fleur's magnificent face was doing to her. She looked to where the other two were. "This walk's taking too long," she said, smothering the conversation. She left Fleur alone as she swiftly walked towards Hagrid and Madame Maxime, who whipped around at the sounds of breaking twigs and crunching leaves.

"You!" Madame Maxime exclaimed.

"Me," Iris said simply. "You're here too, so don't try and act all scandalized. You're only using Hagrid to get your champion an advantage — don't bother denying it, it was written all over your face."

Madame Maxime stared at Iris with hate, but she didn't deny it.

"Olympe?" Hagrid asked, sounding hurt. It nearly broke Iris's heart, but she wasn't going to let Madame Maxime lead Hagrid on.

"Hagrid," Madam Maxime said back. "Are we here to see something or not?"

Hagrid looked at her, betrayal written across his face. "No," he said. Iris was surprised at how convincing his answer was; she was used to Hagrid being a terrible liar.

"No?"

"No," Hagrid repeated. "I jus' wanted ter spend some time with yeh."

Was he testing her?

Madame Maxime looked irritated. "Fine. I've got to get back. It's late. Bye, Hagrid. You, Potter, learn to mind your own business."

Iris scowled at her. "Hey, just because you've got hair around your lips doesn't mean you get to be a cunt."

Madame Maxime gasped in shock at her, then lifted her hand to the space between her nose and lips; she began walking away, still checking to see if she really had facial hair.

It looked as though Hagrid's heart broke. He turned towards Iris and smiled sadly.

"I hoped she would be differen' an' all, an' yeh really should watch yer language," he said.

"People can suck, Hagrid," Iris said, patting Hagrid on his elbow. "There's a reason I don't bother with pleasantries with people like that. There's no point. After the whole heiress of Slytherin nonsense in my second year, I realized that the majority don't really care for the feelings of people they don't know all that much. Might be human nature, I guess. Point is, you weren't a friend to Madame Maxime, so all she saw you as was a source of information."

Hagrid chuckled. "When did yeh ge' so wise, Iris?"

"I dunno, just now?" Iris said, smiling. "Let's go see the dragons?"

Hagrid beamed down at her, nodded, and began walking towards the dragons at a quicker speed.

Iris called out, "Fleur! Come on."

Hagrid seemed too excited to hear — he almost looked as if he was running. Fleur heard and stepped out from the darkness, smiling weakly.

"I enjoyed the look Madame Maxime 'ad," Fleur said.

"I, too, enjoy seeing the head of my school suffer," Iris said.

"I… I don't 'ate her," said Fleur, "but she cares more for 'er school's glory than she does me."

"Doesn't seem like you really care much for anyone else either," Iris pointed out.

Fleur didn't respond, and the two followed Hagrid in silence.

And then, the three found themselves standing at the edge of a clearing, a clearing that had four massive dragons sending flames into the air and onto the dragon-handlers. They seemed to have some sort of protection on them to stop them from frying.

Iris and Fleur, under the former's Invisibility Cloak, stared at the dragons in horror. They were bloody _enormous_. One of them, the largest one — the black one — stood out from the rest. The head of the dragon was as large as the basilisk's head, the one she had killed in her second year: large enough to swallow even Hagrid whole. The other dragons were slightly smaller than this one. The bright orange glow that emitted from its throat, however, made the dragon look much scarier.

It might have not been as long as the basilisk, for this black dragon was roughly ninety feet long, compared to the basilisk's hundred and ten or so feet. Nonetheless, it was enormous, had claws that could easily tear Iris in half, a wingspan that had to be at least a hundred and fifty feet in width, and a terrifying tail, completely covered in spikes, some of which were as long as her Firebolt.

She didn't think she would have ever seen a creature that was more terrifying than the basilisk she had killed, but here she was, rooted to the spot out of shock and fear. After a few moments, she looked up at Hagrid with wide eyes, and saw that he was _smiling_. How could he be smiling? Even he, who was twice as tall as Iris, would only be an appetizer to these beasts!

Her tongue seemed to have dried and shriveled up, for it would not move. Her jaw was opening and snapping shut, and despite the fact that the black dragon, the deadliest looking one, had moved from its original spot, her eyes did not move with it, did not follow along — shock simply stilled them.

She looked over to Fleur and saw that her eyes were widened, her jaw low, and that she was nearly as pale as her very white, even teeth. It was then that Iris realized she had not taken a breath.

She looked to Hagrid again, and judging by the way he was looking at the dragons, the thoughts of this being a date for Hagrid suddenly became a possibility again. She snorted. Trust Hagrid to love something that could burn down his home and an entire class of his with one breath.

It was Hagrid moving closer to the monstrous things that snapped her out of her frozen state. Her brain finally seemed to accept that, yes, she would soon be facing something more terrifying than a basilisk. She opened her mouth to call out to Hagrid, to tell him that even he could not survive against a dragon, but a blast of fire from one of the dragons stopped her.

The fire reached dangerously close to Hagrid and her, and a strangled noise escaped her throat. In a simple blast of fire, one that lasted not even three seconds, everything that had been on the ground, the grass and flowers, had been torched to ash. Her Dragonfire Shield suddenly felt very pathetic. She had spent twenty hours practicing it and now, she was certain there had been no point.

She could have spent those twenty hours learning so many other spells. Her Dragonfire Shield could withstand two — _just two_ — hit of Hermione's strongest fire-based spell. Three would be enough to shatter it. To use the shield instead of dodging or just not getting anywhere near the bloody fire-breathing lizard… It felt like it would be extremely foolish to use the shield now.

A familiar voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Hagrid! You alright? That fire got awfully close there," Charlie Weasley said. Iris had a sudden urge to jump at Charlie and throttle him. _This_ was the big surprise? The reason she'd see him sooner than she expected? But of course, Charlie couldn't have known Iris would be going up against one. Still, the thought of Fleur — any of the champions, really — going up against these monstrous creatures made her blood run cold. Was this tournament going to see another death?

"Wha's tha' black one there?" Hagrid asked, staring at the dragon.

"The Hungarian Horntail? Yeah," Charlie grimaced, "I hope Iris doesn't have to deal with that one, it's by far the deadliest…"

" _Deadliest?_ " Iris shouted, leaping out from under the cloak. Charlie turned to her and gaped. "They're all deadly! What the hell, Charlie, _this_ is the first task? Get past a bloody big dragon?"

"Er — Iris? Hagrid, what's she doing here? You know the champions can't —"

"Can't what, _survive_?" Iris cried out. "This is what you — you — I don't — how — why?" Iris finished weakly, and her whole body seemed to deflate.

Charlie turned from her to Hagrid. "Hagrid, I didn't think you'd be bringing her along."

Hagrid waved him off and Charlie sighed. Iris moved closer to Charlie, dragging her cloak along, and Fleur was unveiled. Charlie stared at Fleur, open mouthed, but Iris didn't think it was because Fleur was part-veela.

"Hagrid!" Charlie shouted in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air. "Two champions? What were you thinking?"

"Nevermind that!" Iris said, marching up to Charlie. "We have to fight these things?"

Charlie frowned at her. "They're not _things_ , they're —"

"Charlie! _Do we have to fight these things head on?_ "

He sighed, "No, you just have to get past them and get one of their eggs, a golden —"

"They have ter wha'?" thundered Hagrid. "They're motherin' dragons, Charlie!"

Charlie winced, then nodded. Iris heard Fleur suck in breath behind her.

"That means they're really protective of their eggs, doesn't it?" Iris asked faintly.

Charlie only nodded.

"And a three-headed dog will be involved too? How many magical creatures will be in this thing?"

"No clue, had no idea a three-headed dog would be involved," Charlie said, as Hagrid started walking around to get a better look at the dragons.

Iris looked back to Fleur and saw she was looking back at her, but was still pale. She took a deep breath and said, "You know what, I can't handle this, time to check out." She turned around and began walking back through the Forbidden Forest. She grabbed Fleur's wrist as she passed her and pulled her along.

As Iris and Fleur silently made their way back towards the school, an impending sense of doom seemed to be growing deep inside Iris, already threatening to overcome her. They were enormous, those dragons, and Iris had absolutely no idea as to how she'd steal an egg from one of them. The more she thought about it, the more the sense of impending doom seemed to grow. By the time she made it to her bed, she knew it would be too strong, and that no sleep would come.

"Fleur," Iris said weakly, "I — I think I — _well_ —"

"Regret — regret ever letting Madame Maxime decide my life for me," Fleur said.

"I imagine you do, but that's not what I meant," Iris said. She waited a moment, wondering how to phrase it in such a way that wouldn't have Fleur look scandalized, and continued, "I think I'm going to take what I said earlier seriously, and get a drink. I've only heard of how people do so to ease… to ease whatever I'm feeling right now."

To her surprise, Fleur nodded and said, "I won't tell. I zink I will go to my bed and drink a Dreamless Sleep Potion." Then Fleur sighed. "Madame Maxime — I will 'ave to pass 'er room to get to mine, she will be furious with me."

Iris thought for a few moments, then came to a decision. "Here," she said, passing her Invisibility Cloak to Fleur, whose eyes widened. "Use this to get past her."

Fleur shook her head, and her silver hair flew from shoulder to shoulder. "Non, I cannot, zis cloak is far too valuable — and 'ow will you get back without being seen?"

"I'll do my best — truthfully, it's been too long since I've been out and about this late at night without it. I could do with the challenge — it'll keep my mind off what we just saw, at least until the firewhisky does its job. And if I get caught, so what? I can't get detentions, can I? Stupid rule, but then again, if they had known _I_ would be in this tournament, they wouldn't hesitate to change it."

Fleur smiled, albeit weakly. "I think zey would 'ave expected ze champions to be a bit more responsible, non? If zey were picked by ze goblet, it would make sense zat it would be expected of ze champions to be worthy of not 'aving to get detentions."

"S'ppose so," Iris muttered. "I'll swing by the Ravenclaw table or the carriage for the cloak tomorrow, okay?"

Fleur nodded reluctantly, and the two began walking two separate paths, one to a comfortable bed, the other to a place where she could, for the first time in her life, see what was so special about firewhisky.

* * *

 **The Edge of Hogsmeade**

Iris crossed her arms in an attempt to warm herself from the bitter wind as she stood on top of a hill overlooking Hogsmeade. It was odd, seeing Hogsmeade like this, the streets only scarcely lit by a few lantern posts as the rest of the town was swallowed up by the darkness of the night. Whenever they had arrived to Hogsmeade station, they never got the chance to see Hogsmeade from a height.

She checked her watch and saw it was past one o'clock. She wondered if it was such a good idea to come all the way to Hogsmeade now, when she had class in the morning. She pulled out her schedule from the bag she had brought with her when she entered the Forbidden Forest the day before; she had still not gotten used to it. The schedule was rather chaotic, she thought, the way so many periods were different lengths than the others.

History of Magic was from 9:00 to 10:00 AM on Mondays and 1:00 to 3:00 PM on Fridays; Care of Magical Creatures was from 10:15 to 11:45 AM on Mondays and Wednesdays and Herbology the same times except on Tuesdays and Thursdays; Potions was from 1:00 to 3:00 PM on Mondays and 9:00 to 10:00 AM on Tuesdays; Transfiguration was during the same time as Potions, except on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, respectively, so that she had the class Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning, the way she had Potions Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning; Divinations was the same, but with Wednesday and Thursday, and Defense Against the Dark Arts on Thursday (afternoons) and Friday (mornings); Charms was only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, 3:30 to 5:00 PM.

This way, there was a total of three hours for each class each week, with the exception of Astronomy, which was only once a week, on Friday nights from 9:00 to 10:00 PM.

Chaotic.

This was why Iris still had difficulty remembering it all, even nearly three months after the term had begun. It was only the help of Hermione that stopped her from being forced to check her schedule daily. There was also the fact that she just didn't care all that much about memorizing it.

She looked down at her schedule:

 **Monday**

 _9:00 AM - 10:00 AM:_ History of Magic (with Ravenclaw)

 _10:15 AM - 11:45 AM:_ Care of Magical Creatures (w/ Slytherin)

 _12:00 PM - 1:00 PM:_ Lunch

 _1:00 PM - 3:00 PM:_ Potions (w/ Slytherin)

 _3:00 PM - 3:30 PM:_ Break

It looked as though she'd be skipping History of Magic later in the morning. It would likely be past two o'clock in the morning by the time she came back, and she was not waking up around eight. She would make an effort to attend Hagrid's class, but he was the one who decided to show Iris the dragons at midnight despite the fact that she already knew. She had to admit, though, that the size of the creatures really put things into perspective, such as how very likely it would be that Iris Potter would be leaving the arena in a vase full of ash.

She stuffed her schedule back in her bag, crumpling it, and began making her way towards the Hog's Head, where Aberforth would be, likely to deny her the second she walked inside. He had done so the three other times she had went inside his bar, but _this time_ , she had a damn good excuse.

 _Dragons, Aberforth! I've got to face dragons!_

Surely it would work.

The lights were still on, as they should be — the sign on the window read:

 **Business Hours**

Sunday: _6:00 PM to 3:00 AM_

Monday to Friday: _6:00 PM to_ _5:00 AM_

Saturday: _Closed, bugger off_

Below this sign, another read in scribbled handwriting:

 _ **Exception**_ **:**

 _Bar is open on Hogsmeade weekends (for Hogwarts) from 10:00 AM to 10:00 PM_

"Potter! The ruddy hell are you doing here at this time?" Aberforth called out to her as she opened the door and stepped in. The bar had one other person in it, surprisingly, and that person was passed out on one of the tables, unsurprisingly. He'd likely wake up sneezing, if the dust on the tables had anything to do with it.

"I need a drink," Iris said happily, the floor creaking under each step as she made her way to the counter.

"Did You-Know-Who drop you on your head when he tried to kill you or did the Killing Curse just scramble your brains? What did I say the last time you were here?" he responded shortly, and resumed cleaning glasses with a rag that looked dirtier than the glasses themselves.

"That insult would've worked much better if you weren't too much of a coward to say Voldemort," Iris said, and though he didn't flinch at Voldemort's name, he scowled at her.

"Habit," he muttered. "Now what do you want?"

"You hear that roaring from the Forbidden Forest?" Iris asked as she sat down on a stool.

"Yes," he grunted.

Iris raised her eyebrows. "Aren't you curious as to what it was?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "If it gets near enough so that it sounds like it's in Hogsmeade, I'll be curious. You think I go and investigate every odd thing that happens around here?"

"It's one of the creatures I have to get past for the first task," Iris sighed. "Bloody dragons, great big ones at that."

Aberforth stopped cleaning the glass cups and looked up at her. "Not even Albus is that stupid. He didn't want dementors near his school, he's not going to let dragons near, big or not."

"And yet, dementors nearly sucked my soul out last year —"

"That's because you can't mind your own damn business, Potter," Aberforth said.

"I had to —"

"Save a life, yeah, yeah."

"Why are you so grumpy?" Iris asked, tilting her head to look at him.

"I'm not grumpy, you were just bloody annoying the last three times you were here, and now you're talking about putting kids up against dragons."

"They _are_ putting us up against dragons," Iris said hotly, not wanting to call herself a kid. "I was just there, in the Forbidden Forest. They've got four of them, one of them's called a Hungarian Horntail. I followed Hagrid out to them when I overheard him talking about going in there to see what's coming in the first task," Iris said, only lying partially.

Aberforth suddenly whipped his wand out from a pocket and said, " _Legilimens_."

For a few moments, Iris felt memories flash before her eyes, of her travelling into the Forbidden Forest with Fleur, of her unfortunately talking to Hagrid (therefore proving she was lying), and of the dragons. When the memory of Iris standing at the edge of Hogsmeade flashed before her, it all stopped and Iris was left gasping, clutching the edge of the counter.

"What — the — _hell_ , Aberforth?" Iris panted.

"Hm, you weren't kidding," Aberforth said, in a tone that suggested he had not just invaded her mind.

Iris leapt from her seat, inhaled and looked ready to begin yelling —

"Shut up and sit down, you stupid girl. I don't like people yelling in my bars," Aberforth said in a manner that made Iris immediately shut her mouth and sit down. He reached from under the counter and pulled out a bottle. Iris wasn't even sure what firewhisky looked like, but an orange liquid that seemed to glow — well, it would certainly fit. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"No point in not allowing you to drink if you're never gonna make it to the age where you can," he said, before he slid a small glass full to the brim of firewhisky, which dripped onto the counter when the glass abruptly stopped in Iris's hand.

"That's not exactly something you tell a fourteen year old," Iris said. She looked at the firewhisky, shrugged, and put all of it past her lips at once.

Aberforth snorted. "Not so quick — and I'm not my brother. I won't sugarcoat it."

Iris stopped herself from swallowing it all at once, and instead let little by little slide down her throat. It scorched her throat and she almost choked, but she forced herself to swallow the rest of it. The numb disbelief along with the terror that Iris had been pushing to the back of her mind began to slowly dissipate. She almost instantly felt better. A small — _very_ small — part of her urged her to start a bar fight, right here and right now. She had a suspicion that if she kept drinking, that irresponsible and incredibly stupid part of her would fully come out to play.

"Who's your brother?" she asked as Aberforth poured himself a shot — Iris snatched it from him and put it past her lips.

"Eh? Albus, you halfwit," Aberforth said irritably.

Iris choked on her drink and spit half of it out; some of it splattered against Aberforth's long gray beard. She looked at him, gobsmacked, as he looked down to his beard with an impassive face, then back at her.

"Dumbledore has a brother?" she asked, and as the words came from her mouth, she noticed that his brilliant blue eyes were exactly like Dumbledore — or Albus, perhaps, as Aberforth was apparently also Dumbledore.

Aberforth stared back at her in disbelief. "You didn't know? I thought you and Albus were close?"

Iris nodded reluctantly, but then stopped. Now that she thought of it, she knew nothing of her headmaster. "Sorta?" she said. "I'm closer to him than all of the other students — why do you think I haven't been expelled yet? — but we never really… _talked_ , you know?"

Aberforth nodded and poured himself a drink. "Not surprising," he muttered, and he quickly downed his drink when he saw Iris looking at the glass. "Screw it," he said, and he grabbed two other glass cups. They were only a few inches tall, but they were nonetheless bigger than the shot glass Iris was holding now. He poured firewhisky into both and slid one of them to a surprised Iris, who drank it anyway.

"Why's it not surprising?" Iris asked, and she felt that small reckless part of her growing in size.

"What makes you think I want to talk about him?" Aberforth said.

"I'll talk to you about my family if you talk about yours? I kinda want to know more about him," she said. Aberforth looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, let's see — my family's all dead. Your turn."

For some odd reason, Iris didn't even feel bad about what she had just said. She looked down to her glass and saw that it was empty.

" _Accio_ _Bottle_!" she said, and as the firewhisky bottle flew into her hand, two other bottles slammed into her back.

Aberforth chuckled. "Gotta say what kind of bottle, or at least think it. Shouldn't be surprised the firewhisky is already affecting you."

At the mention of fire, Iris poured herself another drink. "Your family?" she pushed.

"My family's all dead too, except Albus. There, share time's over. Now what's your plan for fighting this dragon?"

"I came here to forget about the bloody dragon, Abe," Iris said as she took another sip, "so let's not."

"You talk and I'll talk about Albus, though I don't know why you don't just ask him."

"Didn't you just say it wasn't surprising he doesn't talk about —"

"Yes," Aberforth grunted, "but I wouldn't be surprised if he talks to you. You're his favorite student and all — he talks about you often enough whenever he comes down here to try and… _fix things_."

Iris smiled at the thought of her headmaster talking about her often. Was he proud of her? Proud of having her as a student, or maybe even as a friend? A bitter thought came to her: what if he was only closer to her than other students because she was the Girl Who Lived? Would she have even talked with him as much as she had if she was just a normal student? Then she frowned. "Er — is he going to come here tonight by any chance?"

"Don't know, but I hope not. Anyway —"

"Why?" Iris interrupted.

"Because I don't want him here," he said, frowning and taking a drink. "He only comes here to try and _mend_ our relationship, but he can't. Never. I hardly listen to him when he talks."

"Why is your relationship —"

"Never you mind," Aberforth interrupted sharply.

Iris widened her eyes mockingly at him. "Someone's definitely grumpy. How about this, I tell you what I'm planning for the dragon, and you tell me one thing about Dumbledore — Albus Dumbledore, I mean, and it has to be something he wouldn't normally tell me."

Aberforth raised a bushy eyebrow and nodded.

"It's… rough, my plan," Iris admitted. "I mean, I just had it confirmed but I was pretty sure dragons would be involved anyway, so I began learning the Dragonfire Shield Charm, _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_."

"You get it yet?" Aberforth asked before taking another sip.

Iris nodded as she refilled her glass to fill a third of the glass. "I can stop anything my best friend, Hermione Granger, throws at me —"

"Granger, she's the smart muggleborn?"

Iris nodded clumsily. "Yes, so she can cast pretty well. _Arietes Augue._ I can take two hits of it. The third, if cast right after the second, will break it."

"I don't think you've got it then, Potter. You should be able to take five of those without your shield breaking to stop dragonfire," he said. At Iris's suddenly panicked look, he added, "But I suppose the fear of being seconds away from dying a painful death might help — blocking two of those spells is still impressive for your age."

"Yeah, s'ppose so," Iris slurred a bit. Aberforth's attempt at comforting her with his last sentence was terrible, really — made her more miserable if anything. "No worries though. If I die, I'll just use Episkey."

Aberforth laughed heartily. "That'll do it, Potter. Episkey yourself back from ash."

"Might cast a Patronus to distract it or somthin'. I've got the Summonin' Charm down, maybe can use that to bring somethin', y'know, 'side the arena," she said, her eyes unfocused.

"I think the firewhisky is getting to you already, Merlin. I say Summon your broom. Heard you're a good flier, might be able to outfly the damn thing."

Iris nodded vigorously, but regretted it immediately. Her head felt like it was full of water and the shaking only made the water bounce around inside her head, making her dizzy, even sitting down. "Might do that, yeah. Outfly a dragon, dunno why not — might try Parseltongue to talk to it or somethin', maybe it'll —"

"Eh, do it as a last resort. Your little tongue trick is mostly a rumor around the wizarding world. Make it a fact and you'll be one step closer to being declared the next dark lord — or lady, whatever," Aberforth said.

"Maybe I'll Summon a cow or somethin', I dunno. Tell me somethin' about your brother, somethin' most dunno," Iris said, grinning stupidly at Aberforth. She wasn't really sure when the alcohol had hit, but she really, _really_ didn't mind it.

"He's gay," Aberforth said simply.

Iris frowned and looked down at her firewhisky. "What was in this drink?"

He chuckled. "Nothing."

"He's gay too?" Iris asked softly, astounded that her headmaster shared that with her. If he was, and was also headmaster, Chief Warlock, and all that complicated business, then maybe — no, no, she asked for something most don't know. It was safe to say the majority of people had no idea about that, if it was true.

"Keep it down, idiot. I don't care much for his reputation, but you don't need it to get out. Never can know who's really sleeping and who isn't," he said, jerking his head towards the sleeping man. "You mean _too_ as in _you_ _too_ , right?"

There was the tiniest of a flicker of panic inside Iris, but it was quickly extinguished by a courageous bright fire, growing brighter inside her chest with each sip.

"Yep! How'd ya know?"

"You just said ' _too_ ' and I saw your memories, remember?" Aberforth said. "Emotions come with that too, felt your attraction towards that French bint. Only reason I told you, really, knew you wouldn't go around shouting it."

Bint? Who did he think he was, the barmy old fart. "Excuse me? You don't know her," she said indignantly.

"Really, 'cause I felt some resentment towards her in that empty head of yours," Aberforth pointed out.

"Mmm — maybe, but that was before! If you bothered to look, you'd see —"

Aberforth interrupted her with a laugh. "I didn't mean it, Potter. I just wanted to see how defensive you'd get."

Iris frowned and looked at him in disapproval from over her glass. "Whatever," she mumbled. "Who was he… gay for?"

"None of your business," Aberforth replied, very quickly. "Besides, what makes you think it's one specific person?"

Iris downed the rest of her firewhisky and said, "I'll prolly find out somehow anyway, someday, somewhere, somewho, somewhat, somewhen. It's a habit of mine, findin' out things I'm not s'pposed to know."

"I don't see why it should even matter to you. And you mean like the dragons?"

"The stone, the Chamber, the wooly socks, and the dragons! Big ruddy things, dragons. Don't stand a chance," Iris said, confidently.

"I'm sure you'll get through it. You'll do okay," Aberforth assured her.

" _Me_? No, the dragon doesn't stand a bloody chance!" Iris shouted triumphantly.

"Right. What's this about wooly socks?" Aberforth asked.

"Mirror of Erised, and he said he saw wooly socks in the mirror when I asked him, because the mirror shows —"

"I know what the mirror does," Aberforth interrupted, and Iris was surprised to see a pained look in his eyes.

For some odd reason, wooly socks bothered Aberforth. Iris didn't understand it, but who was she to judge?

"Is your boggart wooly socks? I'm sure he said that to not really answer my question, y'know," Iris said, trying to cheer him up.

"No, he meant it. He likely did see wooly socks, just not only the socks," he said, jerking a thumb behind him, where a painting of a little girl was hanging on the wall.

"Wooly socks and paintings? Dunno why he'd want more paintings, he's got enough of those. Wooly socks, I get —"

"That's our little sister, Potter," Aberforth said. "She used to knit us socks, yes, wooly ones. She died young. Albus never appreciated the socks, not until it was too late —"

Aberforth's eyes suddenly widened slightly and went up from her eyes.

"Why are you starin' at my scar?" Iris asked, suddenly irritated.

Aberforth's eyes widened slightly more. "I'm not, just didn't know you were a Metamorphmagus."

"Meta-what?"

"Your hair, it turned white when I mentioned my sister, then a red when you got irritated, just now," he said.

"Did it? Huh, it's been known to grow, my hair, whenever it was cut when I was little and my cunt of an aunt cut my hair, you know," Iris said, twirling her red hair in her fingers.

"I don't know if I'd call her a cunt for simply cutting your hair."

"No, no, you don't get it, never you mind… like you said… I forgot…" Iris said, and she took another sip of firewhisky. She had begun to enjoy the feeling of fire cascading down her throat, and the next few minutes of conversation with Aberforth became a bit more of a blur.

"Alright, I think that's enough alcohol for you, Potter," he said, those few minutes later, after he had been forced to open another bottle. He reached for the second bottle, which was near Iris; the first was already empty.

Iris's eyes widened at the movement and she quickly snatched the bottle and held it out of his reach. His eyes flicked to hers and hardened.

Iris looked offended.

"Potter," the Albus Dumbledore-lookalike growled. "You're drunk, completely drunk. Time to pay up and get out."

"At leas' I won't be for too long! 'Morrow, I'll be sober, and you — you'll still be a grumpy, ugly, old man," Iris said fiercely.

She wasn't sure what to do. Give it up? Surely not. She could chuck a glass at him. No, that would be too slow. Or she could — her wand! But what spell? She needed to figure it out now, he looked ready to jump at her. She flicked her wrist and her wand flew out of its holster. It soared through her fingers — she was unable to catch it — and flew right into the man's face. His hands flew to his eye, which was struck by her wand, and Iris took it as her cue to go.

"Potter!" he roared as Iris stumbled out of the door as quickly as she could, the half-full bottle clutched to her chest as if it was a newborn baby.

"Birdie!" she shouted into the night, thinking of blue phoenixes and having forgotten all about dragons.

* * *

 **1994, November 21, Somewhere**

Her head hurt.

Her whole body hurt.

Iris wasn't sure where she was, but she knew it was outside. She felt the heat of the sun on her hands, but not her face. There was something shading it, and a second later, something wet brushed up against her face — once, twice, thrice, over and over, and it sounded odd. Was she being licked by an animal?

She groaned and opened her eyes.

It was a goat. A goat was licking her face.

She pushed the goat's head away and pushed herself up to a sitting position, and she was sure she was going to die in about two minutes: her head felt as though a telephone made of stone was shoved in it, and it was ringing, ringing, and ringing, never stopping, shaking madly inside her skull as it went on.

The goat licked her again and made a goat-like sound: it sounded like thunder to her.

"You up, Potter?" came a voice from nearby.

"I think my brain's bleeding," Iris said dryly.

"Well, that's what happens when you drink as much as you did," said Aberforth, who had appeared above her, staring down at her in disapproval. "But if you can joke, you can work."

"W-work?" Iris stuttered.

"When you fled outside screaming about birds, you tripped. That bottle of firewhisky shattered, and you fell asleep right after. I searched your pockets for payment, but didn't find nearly enough. So, you're going to work it off," Aberforth said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her up to her feet.

She felt sick. "Work?" she repeated. "My pockets? You searched my pockets?"

"I needed pay, girl," he grunted as he pulled her back inside through the back exit of the Hog's Head. She had apparently slept in a pile of hay in Aberforth's backyard, which was fenced in, and full of goats.

"You couldn't have just summoned it? You had to feel me up?" Iris said, rubbing her temples as she walked inside.

"Don't make me look like some pervert, Potter!" Aberforth snapped, and he shut the backdoor. "I didn't feel you up, I used the back of my hand to pat your pockets. And currency can't be summoned, remember?"

"No, I actually don't. Why not?"

Aberforth stopped and turned to give her a disbelieving glare. "Knuts, sickles, galleons, they're all charmed by the goblins to be unsummonable — it'd be awfully easy to rob people otherwise, wouldn't it? Come on, it's nearly one."

Iris yelped, and the sound was as if a hammer had slammed into the side of her head. "One? I have Potions at one!" she said, and she turned around, ready to begin sprinting up to the castle, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"What about my pay?" Aberforth growled. "You shattered a bottle of firewhisky. You owe me ten galleons."

"Ten galleons!" Iris shouted, outraged at the ridiculous price. "You've gone barmy, no single bottle is ten galleons, and you drank out of it too!"

"Aye, but we both drank out of _two_ bottles. You've wasted a full bottle's worth, and it _is_ ten galleons. Think firewhisky is cheap, Potter?"

"Then why did you even give me some?" Iris asked angrily, her pounding headache no longer being the main focus of her thoughts. "No one gives a fourteen year old a drink that expensive — you purposely gave me an expensive one, didn't you?"

"That's right," Aberforth said, and judging my his expression, he hadn't a care in the world. "I knew a fourteen year old girl wouldn't be able to hold her liquor — women get pissed faster and therefore maker stupider decisions quicker; little girls more so; you'd have no problems whatsoever paying any price after half a bottle of firewhisky."

Iris stared at Aberforth, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing, and disbelief written across her face.

"You — you," she tried to say, but her headache seemed to come back in full force as her anger ramped up, and she was forced to take a seat. "You swindled me."

Aberforth gave a roar of laugher, and if the loud sound hadn't made Iris want to crawl into a dark, quiet corner and die, she would have likely pulled out her wand —

Then she remembered she didn't have it for some odd reason. She had checked when she was still outside. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember much at all after a certain point the night before. Albus Dumbledore was gay, and boy, was remembering _that_ a shock.

"Swindle you? How exactly did I swindle you? I only omitted details, and you were stupid enough to come here and drink anything I gave you."

White-hot anger surged through Iris, but she felt too terrible to anything about it.

"This isn't your world, Potter," Aberforth barked, and she jumped in her seat. "You can't go around doing whatever you please, no repercussions, no consequences, no _anything_ to get you to stop and think about what you were doing."

"Yeah, yeah," Iris said, waving him off.

"Don't yeah me, you brat," Aberforth snapped, and Iris flinched. "Tell me, was it worth it? Have the dragons disappeared? Did the firewhisky get you out of the tournament? What exactly did you gain from last night? You're ten galleons poorer, the dragons are back in your mind, you've got a shit hangover, you've likely missed two classes already and now you're going to be late for another, Potions on top of that — even I've heard of Snape's loathing for you. So before you ' _yeah_ , _yeah'_ me, think on _that_."

Iris looking down in shame didn't stop Aberforth from continuing: "You think you're better than the rest, best of the best, top of the game?"

Iris groaned. "No, and you _know_ that."

"Well, you certainly act like it. Tell me, would any normal student have been able to do what you have? Waltz into the Forbidden Forest, goggle at a few dragons, skip to the bar, get drunk, attempt to steal firewhisky? Just because you know you're special, Potter, does not mean you need to act like it. My brother might be too nice, but I won't sugarcoat it: you don't deserve special treatment just because you're the so-called Girl Who Lived —"

"I don't think I should," Iris said, glaring at him. "I don't take my fame into consideration when I do something."

"Yeah, whatever. You're going to be late for Potions, go. Next time I see you, ten galleons. Get out of here, Potter, and don't let me see you asking for another drink until you're of age." Aberforth said. He paused his movement for a second, and reached under the counter and brought out a small vial. He reached under and brought out another bottle of firewhisky.

Iris moaned. She didn't want to ever see a bottle of firewhisky again.

"Not for you now, Potter, but take this vial of it and drink it before you go up against the dragon. It's not enough to make you do anything stupid, but it'll ease your nerves. And here's your wand."

Iris nervously reached out to grab them, afraid that he'd snap and start lecturing her again — what if this was a test? To see if she would try to drink it again? It wasn't. She grabbed the vial and placed it in one of the two small pouches her wand holster had, and the wand next to them. There were other wand holsters with more pouches for small vials, but they had cost significantly more, so Iris had only bought herself the one with two.

"Yeah, thanks," she said quietly, partly because Aberforth's words had really gotten to her and partly because loud sounds were still making her flinch. How long did hangovers last anyway?

Aberforth only grunted and motioned to the door. Iris stepped outside and the blinding light made her want to clutch her knees to her chest and cry, but she began walking back to the castle anyway. Each step she took made it feel more and more likely that her head would simply pop off.

It was nearly an hour later when Iris had finally made it to the dungeons. She had to first retrieve her cauldron and potion books from her trunk, which lengthened the amount of time it took to get to Snape's classroom. It didn't help that she had to walk softly and slowly, not that the pounding feeling inside her head went away with soft steps, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

She reached towards the door handle and hesitated. Was it even worth it? Missing History of Magic wasn't a big deal for her, it wasn't as if Binns would tell Dumbledore or McGonagall that she had skipped class. Care of Magical Creatures was a gray area. Hagrid was very loyal to Dumbledore, but she didn't think the first thing he'd do would be to report to Dumbledore. She trusted Hermione, and Hermione had hopefully made up a good excuse.

Potions on the other hand? She was certain Snape would complain. It was best to show up an hour late than to skip everything. She had tried to think of a decent excuse to use for her tardiness, but her headache made it nearly impossible to even _want_ to think of any excuse.

She'd have to improvise.

She opened the door. All the noise stopped as she took a step in. She heard Hermione gasp and almost stand up, almost run to her, and it occurred to her that she had likely worried Hermione to death by not showing up when she should have. Ron was staring at her with raised eyebrows and a wary expression. He knew what was coming. Neville looked relieved, as Snape was standing right in front of him. He had probably just finished berating Neville; she couldn't blame him for being relieved to have Snape's attention off of him. She'd certainly be relieved if someone took Snape's attention off of her at this very moment, for he appeared to be attempting to drill a hole in her head with his glare.

"Potter!"

Iris flinched. "Sorry about being late, sir," Iris said quietly.

"You're sorry?" he sneered. "Well, if you're _sorry_ —"

"I had to do something," Iris jumped in, before Snape could say more. "For the tournament, I mean. The task is in a few days and Madame Pomfrey had to check my health, to make sure I was all good to go."

She looked down at her shoes, not of shame, but rather to avoid an attempt at Legilimency from Snape. She and Hermione had checked the Legilimens registry and they hadn't found Snape in there, but they came to the conclusion that Snape was likely one anyway.

"Did she? And do tell us why? To make sure you don't bleed out before you even participate? Trying to find a way out of the tournament, Potter? Realized you're way in over your head, have you?" Snape said, smiling cruelly, then he looked her up and down and looked disgusted. "What happened to you?"

"Sir?"

"What happened to you, Potter?" he snapped. "You usually don't look like that until _after_ brewing a potion."

The Slytherins laughed at this. Iris furrowed her brows and looked to Hermione, who flicked her eyes over Iris's body and gave her a look that demanded an explanation. She had noticed her hair was quite messy from what she could see, but she couldn't have looked that bad, could she?

Iris flicked out her wand and caught it in her hand. A few people gasped, and Iris had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Did they really think she was going to hex Snape?

" _Accio_ _Lavender's_ _M_ _irror_ ," she said.

She ignored Snape's reprimand and Lavender's yelp of surprise as the mirror Lavender always kept on her flew from her bag and into Iris's hand. She looked down at it and her jaw dropped. She looked _terrible_. Her hair wasn't just messy, it had hay in it. Her face was lightly covered in dirt, and she just looked outright miserable. She certainly felt miserable.

"Sorry, my last class was Care of Magical Creatures and —"

"You weren't in that class either!" said Malfoy from the other room.

"Lying to me, are you, Potter?" came Snape's voice from in front of her. He was close. "You think because you're a champion, because you can't receive detentions, that you may do whatever it is that you wish?"

"No, sir," she said.

"I think… _fifty_ points from Gryffindor for being late, for lying, for your cheek, and for looking as you do now, Potter. You have an hour to finish the instructions on the board, good luck," Snape said, smirking, and he turned swiftly to walk back to his desk, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.

"Iris?" Hermione asked.

"Later, Hermione," Iris said irritably. She didn't want anybody talking to her. "I'll explain later, but my head hurts so I'm going to cast a Silencing Charm around me. Just let me work in peace?"

Hermione looked slightly hurt, but nodded nonetheless. Iris flicked her wand out and cast the charm as she glanced at the board.

 _Macellorica Potion - Used to shorten the fur or hair of the drinker_

 _Begin by adding…_

Iris moaned as softly as she could without hurting her head. She had a feeling Snape would attempt to test the potion on _someone_ today.

"Potter, move your things to another table. I will not have Granger help you."

Sure enough, when the end of the class had come, Snape spoke to the class.

"Let's see… _Potter_ , let's test yours, shall we? I'm sure an hour was enough time," Snape said as he made his way towards her. An hour certainly was not enough time, but Iris didn't need it. After realizing there was no way she could complete the potion in time, she had seen Malfoy's own vial. With a whispered incantation, it had become Potter's own vial.

She picked up her vial and held it out for Snape. She was pleased to see Snape's face turn surprised for the smallest moment, most likely at the fact that 'her' potion was the right shade of color it needed to be.

He sneered at her. "Oh no, Potter, I won't be needing it today."

"Sir?" Iris asked in a false confused tone, knowing exactly what was coming next.

" _Drink it_. If you've done it right, the potion here will fix it," he said, holding up a light yellow colored potion.

Iris tried not to glare at him, she really did, but it came out anyway. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold back any retorts. She didn't care about points anymore and she couldn't receive detentions now, but the thought of Snape yelling at her made her grimace.

"Fine," Iris said, and she took a sip from the vial, not wanting to drink the entire thing. The effect was nearly instant. She felt her hair begin to shorten and she imagined she was going to look ridiculous in a moment. A moment later, judging by the snickers of the Slytherin and Snape's malicious smile, she was sure she did. Her hair, which had previously fallen to just below her breasts, had shorted to only as low as her chin.

She looked up at Snape and saw him grinning. The vial in his hand slowly slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, shattering instantly.

" _Oops_ ," Snape said softly, and the Slytherins howled with laughter.

"We'll brew you a potion after class, Iris," Hermione said when Snape had dismissed the class and they were all packing.

Iris grumbled about murder and torture under her breath. The only pleasure she had gotten from that class was watching Malfoy look for his vial and then give her a death glare.

"We need to talk," Hermione said as they made their way out of the classroom.

"Sure, not like I need normal blood pressure today," Iris said.

Ron snorted.

"What? No, I'm just saying we should talk about what happened with you," Hermione said.

"Oh, we'll do that later."

"You know, I'd've thought you'd go crazy on Snape, you know, the way you looked like you had just fought a bear," said Ron.

"I have to agree with Ron," Hermione said, but Iris just walked with her head down. "Iris?"

"My head hurts," Iris grunted in reply. She also knew her hair probably looked ridiculous. It wasn't as if the potion was designed to give a clean cut.

"Are you okay? Do you need to go to Madame Pomfrey? What happened?" Hermione quickly asked.

"Hermione," Iris groaned, "I just want to get some sleep. I'll tell you tomorrow what happened. Oi, Warrington!"

Cassius Warrington, who had just passed by Iris and Hermione, turned around and looked at Iris with raised eyebrows. Not wanting to shout anymore than she needed to, she slowly walked up to Cassius, and he waited patiently.

"D'you know what the first task will hold?" Iris muttered to him.

Cassius's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "No, I don't," he said, much more politely than Iris had expected. He turned around to leave.

"Wait!" Iris shouted, and she flinched at her own voice. How long did these hangovers last?

Cassius stopped and turned his head to look at her. "Yes, Potter? I really don't know, and if I did, I hope you don't expect me to tell you."

Iris was annoyed. She was trying to help him! She had the temptation to say, 'Oh, it's _nothing_ , don't worry about it,' while smiling sweetly, to let him face the dragons without help, but she didn't think she could let Malfoy face those beasts without being a little prepared.

"Well, _I_ do," Iris said, a little irritated still.

Cassius's eyebrows rose once more. "Good for you, I don't need to know. I'd prefer to play fair, so if you'll excuse —"

"Playing fair will leave you as a pile of ash!" she snapped, beyond exasperated now. Didn't he understand she was trying to help him not get killed? "I know, Fleur knows, and Krum likely will too. Do you really want to be the only one that's not prepared?"

"Ash?" Cassius asked calmly.

"Dragons," Iris said simply. "Big great bloody dragons, large enough to swallow Hagrid whole, and you know how big he is. I saw them in the Forbidden Forest last night. I had a feeling dragons would be involved — don't ask why — but I didn't expect them to be as big as they are. They're enormous, Warrington. Couldn't fit in this corridor, that's for sure. One would have trouble fitting inside the Great Hall. Slytherin or not, I'd rather not see you die."

Cassius's face had appeared to remain calm, but Iris saw the blood drain out of it as she talked. She turned and left after a nod of acknowledgement from him. She didn't know if it was rather because he couldn't talk or because he just didn't feel like speaking — Iris always thought he seemed like a man of few words.

"So it's true?" Hermione whispered next to her. "Dragons? You were right?"

"Yep."

"Well, I suppose it's good we started the Dragonfire Shield as early as we did," Hermione said weakly. Ron nodded next to her, a troubled expression on his face.

"I doubt it'll help, Aberforth said I'd need to be able to take five of those hard-hitting fire spells of yours to hold up against dragonfire. My shield breaks after two. I think I'll just go with the Patronus route, maybe Summon my cloak…"

"You can't Summon your cloak. Professor Snape tried last year, remember? It didn't budge," Hermione said. "Speaking of your cloak, why did Fleur come up to me this morning to give it to me? She said she couldn't find you. Where were you?"

Iris frowned. She had completely forgotten about her cloak. And couldn't she Summon it? She had done it before. She flicked her wand out and said, " _Accio_ _Cloak_ " and her cloak flew from Hermione's bag and into her hands. She looked at Hermione with a questioning look as she stuffed the cloak in her own bag. Snape _had_ tried to use the same spell the year before, when she, Hermione, and Ron were sneaking about. Ron looked at the cloak with slowly widening eyes, but then he shook his head with a look of disbelief on his face. Iris was getting ready to ask him what he was thinking —

"But… Professor Snape… Hang on, when did you talk to Aberforth?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Went to the Hog's Head last night after seeing the dragons," Iris said, shrugging. "Why do you think I've got such a headache? Did you know Aberforth's the brother of Dumbledore? Our Dumbledore?"

"Yes, I've read about — Iris! You got drunk?" she whispered angrily.

"Wicked!" exclaimed Ron.

"Well, did you know Dumbledore was gay?" said Iris.

"Don't change the — what? Ron, don't encourage her — is he really though? How do you know? — Aberforth told you? You got drunk! Aberforth let you drink? But — but he couldn't! He has to —" Hermione spluttered.

"Will you stop? You sound like nails on a chalkboard to my head right now. He already lectured me, told me I was stupid, repeatedly, said I owed him ten galleons — swindled me, bloody bastard — and called me stupid some more. And he was right. I wanted to forget about the dragons for an hour, and now? I've got a ridiculous headache, a ridiculous haircut, I've missed two classes and was late for another, and I'm going to miss a day of practicing spells."

"Fine, I'm not going to nag about that, but you're not missing a day of doing something productive," Hermione said firmly. "If you don't want to practice spells, fine, but you'll be reading about magical creatures then. Fluffy and a dragon? I doubt they'll be the only creatures you face — don't give me that look. Hopefully this'll teach you now to _get drunk at this age and this close to a task_ ," Hermione whispered quickly, looking around to see if somebody had overheard her. "While you're doing that, I'll start brewing a potion so you can grow your hair back — if you want, short hair might be better in a task. But you really should practice the Conjunctivitis Curse more, you've almost mastered it."

"No, to all of it." Iris said immediately. "I'll do the reading though. As for my hair, if it's long, I'll just tie it in the back. This length will still get in my face, but it'll be harder to tie back. I want it back, long enough to be able to strangle Snape with it. And as long as we can do it in Slytherin's Chambers. It's quiet down there."

"I was going to suggest that anyway, we always get distracted in the common room."

"You know, it's not bad, your hair," said Ron, and his ears turned pink.

The three made their way down to the entrance of Slytherin's Chambers, which might as well have been a second, larger, quieter, and overall nicer Gryffindor common room. Ron opened up the doors in Parseltongue. He and Hermione had already mastered the ability to say ' _basilisk horn_ ' in Parseltongue, and all three could come down here whenever they wished.

Iris, Hermione, and Ron had spent an entire day redecorating the place a week before. Ron spent half the time chuckling about how great it was that they were turning Salazar Slytherin's own room completely Gryffindor, and indeed they did. Red, white, and gold were the three main colors of the living room, which, thanks to Iris tearing down a few walls, had been expanded to be at least twice the size of the Gryffindor common room.

The living room had three doors now instead of the one that led to the hall; one still led to hallway; one led to the library, which Hermione had begun filling up with her own books, saying that they were likely to use this room for their remaining years at Hogwarts so it only made sense; the last led to the potion lab, which Iris and Hermione had cleaned up and put back to full use.

The other side of the hallway was mostly empty. It used to contain Slytherin's bedroom along with a dueling chamber, but Iris had taken down the wall separating the two. She moved all the furniture out of the bedroom, turned the door into solid stone, used magic to dig a large square hole, and filled the space with water, making it a pool and a place for Iris to fall into if Hermione's fire-based spells set her aflame. On the other side of the large room were a row of dummies that Iris would practice on. This room would be ignored today.

As they walked into the living room, Ron leapt to one of the couches and said, "This place is great you two. Bloody peaceful, I tell you."

"Doesn't bother you that this place is from Slytherin?" Iris said.

"Not anymore it's not."

While Ron took a nap, Iris and Hermione made their way to the door on the left side of the room, the one that led to the potions lab. Through the door came the balcony and a staircase on the left that led down to the lower floor, where the potions lab was.

Iris looked down at it all. She couldn't believe they had this entire room to themselves. Torches stood on the several stone pillars that were lined up in the center of the room, horizontal to the entrance, and the pillars seemed to separate the room into two parts. The first half, the part closest to the balcony and staircase, was more furnished, with large, smooth, even stone tiles, several tables, potions equipment, a chest, and even a small area built into the right wall that contained a few bookcases, a table, comfortable chair, and a chandelier.

The second half of the room resembled more of a cavern, except without any stalagmites or stalactites. On the far wall, there were many plants that hung from the ceiling or wall, most likely magicked in place. In the corner lay a small pool of a liquid in bowl of sorts, made from rock. The liquid inside glowed blue, and Hermione had been able to identify it: Essence of Daisyroot, one of the most common starting ingredients to potions. Several of the plants that hung from the wall hung over this small pool, occasionally dripping a bit of the Essence of Daisyroot into it.

Hermione had found it fascinating the first time she saw it, and had spent several minutes theorizing on how it had somehow never overfilled over the years. There were also several tables on this side of the room too, along with planters that grew various ingredients. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had taken the majority of the plants in the planters, and all of the books in the few bookcases to the indentation in the right wall.

What remained were the plants that hung from the wall and ceilings, the planters, cauldrons and other potion tools (but they were all too old and rusty), two chests, the tables and chairs, a few medieval weapons (there were now several arrows stuck to one of the wooden planters, courtesy of Iris and Ron), and other miscellaneous objects.

Iris thought it all looked rather enchanting. The orange glow from the torches made it feel warm and pleasant, and there were enough tables and chairs, some even comfortable, to make it a place to relax, even if they had a brilliant living room.

"Want to talk about it now?" Hermione asked.

"Ron's gone to sleep, and I honestly don't want to tell a story right now."

"Fine. Want to talk about your letter?"

Iris smirked. "Figure it out yet?"

"The manticore thing is obviously a joke, but the other two…" Hermione said, biting her bottom lip and looking at Iris nervously.

"It's adorable when you bite your lip like that, makes me want to snog you senseless," Iris teased.

Hermione's face fell. "So that was the truth? Iris… I don't look at girls that way, I didn't think —"

"Relax, Hermione. I don't. If I'm going to be honest, I did at one point, but I got over that."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You — you actually fancied me?"

Iris shrugged. "Well, we spent all that time last year time travelling together. I lost track of how many times I caught a ride with you when you used the Time-Turner. It was a bonding experience. Riding on Buckbeak with your arms around my waist the last time we used it really didn't help, you know. But I pushed all those feelings out already, don't worry."

Hermione sat back in her chair, looking stunned.

"Hey, the feelings are gone. Honestly, you don't have to worry. You were right about Greengrass," Iris said. "She's insanely attractive."

"No, I heard you the first time — I'm just surprised you actually fancied _me_."

"Oh, not this crap again, Hermione. I'm not doing this with you again. You're attractive, get over it. Christ, I've never met someone so dedicated to denying their positive traits," Iris said.

"You haven't met yourself then, Miss _Oh-It-Wasn't-Much_ — wait, Voldemort? What?"

"Oh, yeah," Iris said nervously. She had hoped Hermione wouldn't remember.

"Iris, you said you met Voldemort? Was that a joke?" Hermione asked, boring her eyes into Iris.

Iris explained everything that had happened with Voldemort's memories. Hermione was insistent on Iris going to Dumbledore about it, and Iris really didn't want to argue, so she said she would. After Hermione had calmed down, they discussed the possibility of a person leaving their memories in another, and how lucky it was that Iris hadn't seen more than a few. After a few moments, they sat in silence.

"Do you have _Fantastic_ _Beasts and Where to Find Them_?" Hermione asked as she began to clean up a table.

"Yep."

"Begin memorizing all the weaknesses of any creature that could be in the first task, I'll start brewing your potion," Hermione said, and Iris felt a rush of gratification for her, to have just went through two hours of Snape's _teaching_ , and be willing to brew a potion for somebody else afterwards — then she remembered something. It had been a blur an hour ago, but it was coming back now.

"Hermione, there's no need for the potion."

"Are you going to keep your hair that way?" Hermione said, tilting her head. "I think short hair could work for you, but we should clean it up a little bit, don't you think?"

Iris shook her head. "I'll grow it out on my own, I think."

"Do you know how to brew it? Because neither of us are good enough at Transfiguration to lengthen hair, human Transfiguration is extremely difficult and —"

"No, no," Iris interrupted. "Aberforth told me last night, or this morning I guess, that I changed my hair color on my own, and when I told him that Aunt Petunia had cut my hair once and the next morning, it had all grown back, he said that I was a meta-something."

Hermione's eyes had widened throughout her explanation and her jaw dropped at the end.

"A Metamorphmagus?" Hermione cried out, and Iris slapped her hands over her ears, but that also added to the pain.

" _Hermione_ , good lord —"

"Oi!" came the voice of Ron from the other room. "Keep it down over there!"

"That's not possible!" Hermione said. "Metamorphmagi are incredibly rare, I think there's only one in the country, besides you — if you are one, but that's absurd, you couldn't possibly…" Hermione trailed off as she witnessed Iris's hair begin to slowly grow out while Iris sat there, eyes tightly shut, brow slightly furrowed, and no wand in sight. After twenty seconds, Iris's hair had reached the beginning of her waist.

Hermione gaped at her.

"But how?" Hermione whispered. "They're extremely uncommon."

Iris shrugged. "Dunno. Who cares? It's neat."

After getting over her shock, Hermione went to the library, and Iris went back up to the main room, the living room, hopped on a couch, and began reading about any magical creatures that could be in the first task. She kept getting distracted, however, by the image of a dragon killing her in a dozen different ways. Everytime she began reading about a different creature, her mind would wander back to the dragon, and her anxiety would increase again. The mental image of the giant dragon tormented her until Hermione came back, over an hour later.

"I feel bad for her," Iris said, when Hermione had finished explaining her search for information on Metamorphmagi. She had found nothing worthwhile in the library, so she had gone to McGonagall, who told her about the only Metamorph she knew of.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Nymphadora's a terrible name, what were her parents thinking?"

"I'm sure she likes it."

"Yeah, I'm sure. So what else did you find out?"

"Well," Hermione said as she began pacing, "Nymphadora Tonks is the daughter of Andromeda Tonks, who used to be Andromeda Black, Sirius's cousin actually, and the Blacks were known to have a Metamorphmagus every now and then. It ran in their blood apparently. Andromeda wasn't a Metamorphmagus though, and neither was her mother, so who knows when it pops up. The problem is that you're not a Black."

"My grandmother was a Black," Iris pointed out from her couch.

"She is?"

"Yeah, Dean even gave me permission to say —"

"Iris."

"Dorea Black and Charlus Potter made little James, who helped make me."

"Really?"

"Yes. You see, Hermione, when a boy and a girl like each other —"

"Yes, yes," Hermione interrupted with a blush, and Iris smiled tiredly. "That must be it then, Dorea Black's blood gave you that trait. But what doesn't make any sense is that it's not exactly obvious — I mean, you didn't even know about it until today, and you only used it once before. Metamorphs usually begin changing their hair and eye color early on, when they're babies! You should have accidentally changed something before, especially given how many dangerous situations you've found yourself in."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Iris asked, confused.

"When Metamorphmagi are emotional, their abilities are more likely to show up. If you're angry, your hair might become a different color, it might —"

"Turn red? Aberforth said my hair turned white when he was talking of his sister, who had died, and red when I got upset."

"Yes, exactly. The alcohol must've made it easier for you to change it," Hermione said.

"And the Killing Curse was cast on me," Iris said slowly.

"You might have changed then too, yes," Hermione agreed. "What, you think you have natural red hair?"

"No, I mean, what if that stopped me from changing? What if the Killing Curse somehow... crippled this ability?"

"Maybe," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Iris closed her eyes and focused. She opened her eyes a moment later and saw that her hair was a dark red, just like her mother's.

Hermione gave her a sad smile. "Try changing anything else but your hair. Metamorphmagi have the ability to completely change their appearance."

"What?" Iris said incredulously. "Their _entire_ appearance?"

"Well, I don't know if they can change genders, but yes, for the most part. Hair, eyes, all facial features and structure, your body too. That is, if you can. You might be some kind of limited Metamorphmagus, who knows?"

Iris gawked at Hermione, and then, she burst out laughing. "You better pray you're right about it being limited, Hermione!"

"What?" Hermione said, looking at Iris warily.

"Me?" Iris said in between her laughter. "Change my appearance completely by will? You just told me I might be able to make myself look like anyone! You, Professor McGonagall, the Minister of Magic..."

As Iris continued to list all the people she would become, Hermione's eyes widened in horror.

Iris's dreams were dashed a few minutes later. She had nearly started sweating from concentration, but she could only change her hair length, hair color, eye color, and oddly enough, her fingernail length. Hermione also noticed a change in Iris's skin tone, but it was only minor enough to make her slightly paler or slightly tanner. Iris sincerely hoped it would only take training, and that eventually, she'd be able to wreak havoc on the wizarding world.

Iris twirled her silver hair in her fingers and looked at Hermione with her ice blue eyes. "Oui, zis is nice."

"You're terrible," Hermione said, holding back a smile. "I think you should keep your hair black though. Always."

"What, why?" Iris said. She was rather enjoying looking like a veela.

"If you want, you can, but aren't you becoming an Animagus for stealth purposes? To be able to hide as an animal should Voldemort come for you again? If you keep this a secret, people won't expect it. When they scan a crowd now, looking for you, they'll only look for the black-haired girls. If they know you can change your hair color, they won't skip the blondes, redheads, brunettes, and... veelas."

Iris deflated. Hermione was right. She felt incredibly paranoid thinking of how to use this newly discovered ability to protect herself already, but she was right. A different color for her hair wouldn't do much if somebody really looked at her, but from afar? It would certainly make the average person skip over her if her hair was blonde.

At that moment, Ron walked in. He looked at Iris in shock, then confusion, and finally, triumph. "Veela don't affect me anymore!"

"Ron," Hermione said patiently, "that's Iris. She's a Metamorphmagus."

Iris flopped down on the couch, covering her ears as Ron and Hermione began talking excitedly. She closed her eyes. Her headache had gone away in her excitement, and now it was coming back, bringing sadness, irritation, and crushed spirits with it. Minutes later, she felt a blanket fall on top of her, hands tucking her in, and a soft kiss on her forehead. If she didn't know any better, she'd say it was a bit romantic of Hermione to do that.

She drifted off to sleep to the sounds of pages turning and Ron's renewed snores.

It was quite comforting, the ambience.

The next two days passed by exceedingly quick, and with each passing hour, Iris grew more and more nervous. The anticipation, the wait, that was what was killing her. It was better that she knew, however, for if she didn't, she wouldn't stand a chance.

On Tuesday, she went to Potions and suffered through Snape's lesson, but her hangover had been over by that point. She tried to do _something_ to help her for the task in Potions, but as Snape kept an eye on her most of the class, it was wasted time.

Herbology was right after Potions, and she didn't feel she knew Professor Sprout enough to ask for permission to skip the class so she could continue practicing. Transfiguration was after lunch, and the look on McGonagall's face when Iris had asked her was enough to get her to shut up and do her work.

It was Professor Flitwick who actually let Iris work on something that the other students wouldn't be working on. He had agreed to let her practice any charms she wished, as long as he could see them. She showed him her mastery of the Summoning Charm when she had Summoned his desk, which was twice as large as her desk. When she had produced the Patronus in front of him, he squealed and fell off his chair. When she had produced the Dragonfire Shield, he clutched at his chest and was forced to grab onto a desk to hold himself up.

"A Dragonfire Shield! Goodness me, Miss Potter, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he said, giving a good-natured chuckle. "How well can you hold it?" he asked, and all the eyes in the room were on Iris, who had to fight her blush.

"Er — Hermione uses the spell, _Arietes Augue,_ to test it," Iris said nervously. Flitwick gave Hermione a look of approval.

"Will you let me test you?" Flitwick asked. "I'll cast a protective charm over you first, of course, so should your shield break, you'll be safe from the fire."

Iris's mouth went dry, but she nodded. She didn't really want him to. She knew she wouldn't be able to stop the fire from a dragon, and she didn't want to be thrown backwards in class, in front of everyone else. She had already embarrassed herself in front of the Slytherins, and she didn't want to do the same in front of the Ravenclaws.

Flitwick positioned himself in front of his desk after casting the charm on her, and took aim with his wand. He nodded at Iris, who was able to immediately cast the shield with a muttered, " _Praesidio_ _Incaendium_."

The aqua-green shield went up and a fireball instantly slammed into her shield. Before she could even show her surprise, three more balls of fire came right after. It certainly wasn't _Arietes_ _Augue_ , that was for sure. Ten more blasts against her shield later, and Flitwick called out that he was going to use _Arietes_ _Augue_.

" _Arietes_ _Augue_!" Flitwick cried, and he pushed his wand forward. The fiery battering ram flew at Iris, and she pushed all of her concentration into the shield.

She felt it slam against her shield, and her wand vibrated slightly. There were gasps among the students, and Iris could see why. Flitwick didn't seem to be holding back with his spell. Fire splattered against her shield, which covered ninety-five percent of her body by this point, and the flames soared over and to the side of her shield.

The flames died out, and she heard someone say, "I couldn't even see her through the fire!"

Another spell, the same one, hit her shield again, and her wand vibrated harder this time.

Before the flames even fully died out, she saw Flitwick preparing the third one. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold up against this one, and fear gripped her heart. Protective charm or not, being engulfed in flames was not an easy experience. She wrapped her heart in warmth, she pretended she was snuggled into a thick blanket, the one Hermione had wrapped her in the day before, and the spell slammed into her shield.

To her complete surprise, it held up, and her wand vibrated only as hard as it did last time. She knew another was coming, and she repeated what she had just done mentally, and the fourth _Arietes_ _Augue_ slammed into her shield, and yet, miraculously, her shield stayed up.

She prepared herself for the fifth one, and she waited, excited at the chance to stop five, but it did not come. She looked up and saw Flitwick clearly, not through an aqua-green substance. Her shield was still up, but it was slowly tearing itself apart.

 _Oh_.

"Well done!" Flitwick squeaked. "Four of them! Very well done, indeed, Miss Potter. Miss Granger, if you'd like to continue to help her with her shield, you may. Everybody else, please return to your assignment for today's class."

Iris and Hermione spent the rest of the class on the Dragonfire Shield, but to Iris's disappointment, she could never hold up against the fourth blast from Hermione. Three became the new limit when it came to Hermione, and she wasn't sure why. They both agreed that Hermione was most definitely not stronger than Professor Flitwick, who was a dueling champion.

After class, Iris sat both Hermione and Ron down in the Chamber to explain what she had gone through. She left out what had happened in the shadowy part of the forest; there was really no need to get Hermione going now; in fact, she was fairly certain Ron would also lecture her if she told them the complete truth of what had happened in the forest. She didn't frighten easily, but that horrid place in the forest had given her nightmares the night before.

She did mention Seraphina, the sphinx, and both Hermione and Ron gaped at her for several moments, before they both exploded with questions.

 _How did it not kill you? She was friendly? You had a conversation with her?! She helped and guarded you?! What's wrong with you? How is it that you're able to live this ridiculous of a life?_

She had also mentioned the phoenix, and Hermione was fascinated by the idea of a hybrid between a phoenix and thunderbird, and question after question flew from her lips, none of them directed at anyone.

Hermione glared at her when she mentioned what had happened at Aberforth's bar, while Ron guffawed and gave her a pat on the back.

"Lucky you! I always wanted to try firewhisky, but my parents have always hid it really well," Ron had said. Hermione wasn't sure who to glare at at this point.

At the end of the tale, though plenty was omitted, Hermione leaned back in her chair to try and breathe normally again while Ron congratulated Iris — she wasn't sure exactly what he was congratulating her on.

They spent the rest of the day practicing various spells, and Iris was more motivated than ever. The task was two days away, and she was also more anxious than ever. She had mastered the Summoning Charm, the Patronus, and the Conjunctivitis Curse. She had gotten the Episkey spell down fairly well, but she didn't think she was yet able to heal anything more than a small cut or bruise.

By the end of classes on Wednesday, where Iris had spent the majority of Care of Magical Creatures purposely letting the Blast-Ended Skrewts cut her so she could practice the Episkey spell, and the majority of Divination doing the same, except by using the Severing Charm to cut herself. Ron had gone a bit green once he saw what she was doing to herself. She had always been able to heal herself quickly enough that no scar remained. It was either that or the fact that the cuts were fairly small and shallow.

It was the last evening before the first task, and Iris was making her way back inside the castle. After spending a few hours getting some last minute practice in, she had gone outside to fly on her broom, to relieve some stress. It was hardly working. Not even the freedom that riding her Firebolt offered calmed her nerves, and her anxiety was at an all time high.

Time was flying.

After realizing it wouldn't help, she got off her broom, and began walking back to the castle under the night sky. It was later than she thought. At least it couldn't get any worse.

It was after Dumbledore had passed by her in a corridor and given her some vague nonsense about Parseltongue being 'most useful with all kinds of serpents.' It was after this when she realized that she was wrong, and things could get worse.

She was walking through another corridor when she passed a bathroom and heard somebody crying from it. _I really don't need this right now_ was what she wanted to think, but she couldn't stop herself from investigating. Even if it was simply a heartbroken girl, whose boyfriend had just broken up with her, she couldn't have just left.

She entered the bathroom slowly and quietly, closed the door behind her softly, and turned to see whoever it was that was crying.

It was Millicent Bulstrode.

Iris sighed. She should have just kept on walking. Millicent had heard her, apparently, for her head snapped up to look at Iris.

"Potter?" she said weakly, and her eyes were red. "What are you doing here? Come to make fun of me, have you? Gryffindors and Slytherins aren't so different, you know," she sniffed, trying to gain her emotions back under control.

"Er — no?" Iris said uncertainly. What was going on here? She had made fun of her once in the entire time she had been at Hogwarts, and that was only because Millicent had insulted her parents first.

"Yeah, _okay_. Go on, tell me what the others say behind my back. You already have. Call me fat, ugly, a troll!" she sobbed.

Iris didn't speak. It was as though something heavy had suddenly settled inside her heart. It hadn't even occurred to her what her words had done to Millicent that day. Why should it have? It was simply another confrontation between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Millicent got up, grabbed her bag, and shouldered Iris out of the way. When she had left, walked through the door, still crying, Iris stared at the closed door.

"I… I didn't mean…" Iris began to say, even though no one could hear her, but it wasn't that fact that stopped her from continuing. It was the fact that she wasn't even being truthful with herself. She _had_ meant it. She had meant every insult she had thrown at Millicent that day in early November. How could she say she didn't mean it when she had felt no remorse for her actions? She didn't feel _that much_ sympathy for the girl — she had made fun of her dead parents after all, but the fact she had acted like that of a bully for any reason, especially after her own childhood...

Yes, Millicent was in the wrong for talking about her parents that way, but she, Iris, had also been incredibly cruel that day. As cruel as Malfoy. Millicent's comment about her parents had even been half-hearted, almost as though she had said it just to fit in, despite not really meaning it.

She felt a little dreadful as she made her way back to the Gryffindor tower. It was with a feeling of exasperation with herself that she realized she'd have to add Millicent to her list of people she'd have to apologize to. _She shouldn't even have a list_. Krum, Aberforth, likely Ollivander, and now Millicent.

In her indifference of everything outside of her own little world, in her decision to not care about anything but herself when her name had come out of the goblet, she realized she had sort of become something she didn't like: a self-centered — there was no other word for it — _bitch_.

She still considered Millicent the exact same, and that wasn't changing anytime soon, but being placed in the same group as the nastier Slytherins wasn't something she was proud of.

She didn't realize she had made it to her bed until Hermione asked her if she had a good flight. Iris muttered a lie and buried her face in her pillow.

The task was tomorrow and she felt more miserable than she had in a long time as she drifted off to sleep.

She dreamt of Voldemort, on the back of a Hungarian Horntail, flying around chasing her. Seraphina stood to the side, cursing Iris for bringing Voldemort here, for letting him burn down her forest. Millicent Bulstrode was too busy crying to move out of the fire and it engulfed her, and then the fire reached her, Iris, and Hermione's sobs joined Millicents, and together, the sound haunted the rest of her nightmares.

* * *

 **A/N:**

If you're curious of what I based the potions lab in the Chamber off of, google "dumbledore's army potion lab image" and it should be the first link. That's what it looks like.


	8. The Longest Hours

**Author's Notes:**

I've realized that JK Rowling's pattern of capitalization is just ridiculous, so I'm following my own rules now. I mean, why are some magical creatures capitalized, and others aren't? Why is Muggle capitalized when veela, wizard, witch aren't? Why is it so inconsistent at times? Sometimes a word is capitalized, other times it's not. It's rather annoying figuring it all out, so I'm just following my own rules from now on.

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **The Longest Hours**

 **1994, November 24, Girls' Dormitory Bathroom.**

Soft hands held her hair back as she bent over the porcelain and emptied her stomach. She clutched the sides of the lid with her hands, her knuckles white, and her knees already beginning to hurt. This was her second trip to the bathroom. The first had been not too long after breakfast. This was shortly after the beginning of lunch.

All classes were cancelled. Today was the big day. They didn't want any classes interfering with the first task, not that any of it mattered to Iris. She wouldn't have gone either way. There wouldn't have been a point. She wouldn't have been able to focus. She would have been as she was now.

A wreck.

A part of her wished for it to happen now, for the first task to already be starting. The anticipation was bringing her anxiety levels to such a point that she couldn't hold in her breakfast or lunch. She'd likely start the first task on an empty stomach.

She wasn't worried about Fluffy. He'd be easy. She was only a bit worried about what else could be in the task.

It was the dragons that were really terrifying her. They were by far the largest creatures she had ever seen, and she was at a distance when she saw them. What would they look like right in front of her? This wasn't even as bad as the first time she had walked into the Chamber of Secrets. She didn't know the size of a basilisk then and so the wait hadn't been as bad. The wait for the dragons made her want to drink the firewhisky Aberforth had given her right now.

"Are you ready to get up?" Hermione asked softly as she tucked hairs behind Iris's ears.

Iris nodded. She slowly got up with the help of Hermione, though she did not need it. She was feeling better now that she had nothing more to throw up. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"What time is it?" she asked Hermione.

"You don't want to know."

"Hermione," Iris moaned and she slammed her head against a mirror.

"Sure, give yourself a concussion before you —"

"Hermione, _not now_ ," Iris said through gritted teeth. She flicked her wand out and checked the time. The task started at two, but she needed to head there an hour before. It was eleven now. She had two hours until someone came to get her. They had said it would likely last until six or so. They predicted each champion to take up to an hour, give or take ten to thirty minutes, depending on how skilled they were.

The ' _interview'_ Skeeter had printed out had actually done some damage; Iris now had all the Slytherins and half of both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff against her. Their taunts had made it clear what they thought of her during breakfast, when Dumbledore had announced how long it may take each champion. Half of the school thought she would take a full two hours, and that was if she didn't die in the first five minutes.

It didn't help that Krum, the famous seeker that he was, didn't forgive her when she had apologized this morning. He had claimed she was only doing it now so her humiliation in the first task wouldn't be as bad, and that if she meant it, she would have apologized earlier. She really had no one but herself to blame for that one; she had completely forgotten to apologize to him when Hermione had pointed out he wasn't really leering at her all those days ago.

The only comfort she had gotten that morning was seeing Fleur scowl at Krum's back. Before she could talk to her though, Madame Maxime had come and whisked Fleur away, much to the disappointment and irritation of both. She hadn't talked to Fleur since the night they had seen the dragons, but Iris was hoping to actually get to know her, seeing as she had unwittingly told Fleur quite a bit more than she ever wanted to tell anyone and Fleur had reacted pleasantly.

Twelve o'clock.

An hour flew by and Iris considered just hopping on her broom and flying off to find Sirius. They could spend the rest of their lives on some tropical beach, drinking things she shouldn't be drinking, enjoying the local women, maybe even smoking cigars.

One o'clock.

It was time. She and Hermione had spent the last two hours getting some last minute practice in. Iris had insisted on practicing all the healing spells they had learned. She had also paid Bagman to go out and buy her a vial of Essence of Dittany. Bagman had asked for thirty galleons, and had even said it would only buy her a small vial, not even the size of her thumb.

Unfortunately, Bagman was not trying to cheat her out of money; so it was that Iris gave Bagman thirty galleons; she only had ten galleons left, and those were going to Aberforth. After that, she'd need to visit Gringotts again if she wanted to use any more money while at school. Was it a bit irresponsible of her to spend so much money in such a short time? Perhaps, but she still had heaps of gold in her vault, didn't she? She surely wouldn't lose it all so soon.

Hermione also had her practice dodging by banishing pillows at her. Iris had already been skilled at this. A decade of being forced to dodge Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley's attempts at hitting her had helped, along with the fact that every week at her muggle school, Dudley and his friends would all play a game of dodgeball with her. Of course, it was simply her against five people, and being hit didn't mean she was out. Oh no, she'd be hit a few dozen times before they decided they had won.

She was thankful for it. Her reflexes were quick now. She _could_ dive, somersault, and be on her feet fairly quickly, but she really preferred not to; it was inconvenient, slower than one or two quick steps to the side, and was often painful. If she really had to dive out of the way, it was best to simply throw herself to the side, making herself parallel to the ground in the air, roll sideways, and get to her feet that way instead. That hurt too, but not as often as the other option. Of course, she preferred to simply sidestep. Not as dramatic, but much more practical.

She was able to dodge _most_ of Hermione's pillows. She sometimes only needed to lean her body to the side; or simply duck; sometimes she'd need to quickly throw her entire body to the floor, but she was quick enough; on the rare occasion, she'd have to throw her entire self to the side — this part was often painful, but it worked. It was likely something she'd have to do to dodge a tail swipe from a dragon.

"I'm honestly surprised at how quick your leaps are, Iris. It's almost unnatural," Hermione said, looking down at Iris's legs.

"I play Quidditch," Iris said.

"How does Quidditch tone your legs? Or anything for that matter?" Hermione asked skeptically.

" _Hermione_ , it's not just sitting on a broom. You don't think turning your broom at sixty plus is difficult? Motorcycle racers need to be fit, don't they? I'm pretty sure racecar drivers and jet pilots get in shape the same way too. Taking those turns at high speed puts a lot of stress on their body, right?"

"Right," Hermione said, nodding along.

"It's like that, but instead of only going left and right, I'm also going up and down. If I'm diving straight for the ground and I need to pull up quickly, it puts a lot of stress on my body. Remember how long our practices were last year? Sometimes Wood would make me constantly take sharp turns to build up endurance. He once had me spend three hours diving and pulling myself up _without my hands_. I'd have to use my legs to steer. He said it was in case I needed to use both hands to catch the Snitch. It was bloody exhausting."

"That was when your legs were really sore, wasn't it?" Hermione said.

"Yes. My legs were tired after the first twenty minutes. I could hardly walk that morning after, remember? Wood was the real madman of last year, not Sirius. Handling a broom at low speeds is easy, sure, but if you're constantly taking turns at high speed, you've got to be fit. Otherwise, you're not going to be able to hold onto the broom and you're going to toss yourself off. Personal experience, that. Quidditch won't make anyone look like a bodybuilder, but it tones some parts of the body and especially builds endurance."

Hermione's face was pensive.

Iris's lips twitched. "Guess Quidditch isn't so silly anymore, is it?"

Before Hermione could retort, there was a knock on the door.

Professor McGonagall opened the door. "Potter," she said. "It's time. We need to get you to the tent, where you'll wait until your turn."

Iris nodded. She threw her charmed sweatshirt on, threw her arms through the charmed leather jacket Hermione was holding up, and turned to Hermione, who immediately threw herself at her before she could do anything else, and hugged her tightly.

"You'll do okay, Iris. Hopefully these clothes will do a little something to help protect you from attacks. I believe in you. Good luck," she said, and she pulled away. Iris noticed her eyes were watery. Iris nodded to her too.

"Come, Potter," McGonagall said in a softer voice than she usually had, and she placed her hand on her shoulder to guide her out of the room. Ron gave her a quick hug on her way out of the common room, wishing her good luck.

As the two made their way out of the castle, she received two types of comments. Some people would offer her encouragement, tell her she'd do great, even that they were betting on her. The twins even went so far as to try and make a bet with McGonagall.

"Why would I bet against Miss Potter, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall said. Iris felt her spirits raise at those words and she smiled fully for the first time that day.

And some people decided to tell her how likely it was that she was going to die. She was used to it however; not exactly people telling her they were going to use her as fertilizer in Herbology after the dragon ate her, but the normal insults.

A Slytherin had tossed today's edition of the Daily Prophet at her, and laughed as the paper smacked Iris in the face.

"Rowland!" McGonagall said angrily. "Fifteen points from Slytherin!"

Iris looked up at Rowland, and noticed Millicent Bulstrode behind her, staring at her with an unreadable expression. Iris mouthed _'I'm sorry'_ to her and Millicent looked dumbfounded for a second before she turned on her heel and walked away. She wasn't really sure why she felt a little guilty. Millicent had said awful things to her too. Perhaps because she too had once been reduced to tears from bullying.

Iris looked down at the Daily Prophet.

* * *

 **The First Task Today**

 _By Rita Skeeter_

 _The very first task of the Triwizard Tournament is today, the 24th of November, and it is being held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Nobody knows yet what dangers the first task will hold for the champions or where the stands will even be, but Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, says, "All will be revealed in due time. We did not wish to give our champions any hints as to what they must face in the first task, so we have hidden the arena and stadium from view until the time comes." Two o'clock, November 24th! If you are not a student or staff member of one of the three schools, you must have an attendance pass to attend._

 _Unfortunately, as we don't know what the task will be, there's not much to talk about in regards to what the champions will have to face — and speaking of the champions: Iris Potter has been spotted out on Hogwarts grounds with best friend, muggleborn Hermione Granger, practicing (and failing) all sorts of advanced magic._

 _"I saw her attempting some kind of shield with Granger throwing some fire spell at her. After one single hit, Potter couldn't hold it any longer and was sent flying back. It was hilarious," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student at Hogwarts._

 _Given the statement from Iris Potter herself about how she was going to win, it's quite worrisome that she's unable to stop simple fire spells. If she's incapable of producing a Shield Charm (Protego), what kind of performance should we expect from her today? Perhaps Potter is purposely hiding her true skill to throw off the rest of the champions? A very Slytherin thing to do, but this reporter has an anonymous source that says it would be no surprise:_

 _"I overheard Potter and Granger talking in the library once. Potter said the sorting hat was begging her to let it put her into Slytherin, but she wanted Gryffindor instead," says someone who wishes to remain anonymous._

 _But enough about that, the other champions have also been quite busy! Viktor Krum has..._

* * *

Iris tossed the paper on a nearby bench and scoffed. "She's not even trying to be subtle. And _speaking of the champions, let's talk about how Iris sucks,_ " Iris said in a high-pitched mocking kind of voice.

"And this, Potter, is why I ask you to keep your mouth shut. In the wizarding world, having a big mouth can get you into trouble."

"I'm starting to realize…"

"Was it true?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Was what true?" Iris asked back, confused.

"Did you ask the sorting hat to put you into Gryffindor?"

"Oh," Iris said, still puzzled as to how anybody had overheard that conversation between her and Hermione. "Yeah, but that person made it seem like the hat was desperately trying to put me into Slytherin. All it said was that Slytherin would help me on my way to greatness."

McGonagall looked down at Iris and smiled. "Well, I'm very glad you picked Gryffindor, Potter."

They were walking towards wherever it was that she was supposed to be, and Iris did a check of what she had with her. She had her wand and wand holster, and she felt the small vial of firewhisky in a pouch. That was all she was allowed to bring, her wand, her holster, and anything that could fit inside it too, barring some exceptions. Her holster had small Undetectable Extension Charms on its two pouches, though Iris had never thought to use them until now. The pouches would remain flat on the outside, but had just enough room on the inside to hold a small vial.

The hole her wand went into was the exact same way. If it didn't have the charm on it, she wasn't sure if her wand could fit on her forearm. Hermione had explained that anything with an Undetectable Extension Charm was expensive, and that was the reason a single holster with only two pouches was fifteen galleons. The ones with six pouches were sixty galleons.

She was fairly certain the only time she had spent that much or more was with the fixing of her eyesight and when she had ' _accidentally_ ' dropped a couple dozen galleons around the Burrow over the summer (she still felt bad that Mr. Weasley had gotten a fifty galleon fine for the flying car).

She had no idea where they were going now. They were walking down the hill from Hogwarts and to the edge of a large cliff. It was a bit like a plateau once one got down the large hill, the hill of which was often used by Hogwarts students to lie down upon and relax, or perhaps do homework. The entire thing was a bit too far from Hogwarts, however, at least compared to the many other spots one could lay down in, so Iris and many others had never bothered to come here often, if at all.

It was odd though. She could see the entire plateau from her spot on the slope, and she couldn't see anything else at all. Though it was incredibly large, she was still able to see it all, and there was definitely no stadium. Was it all underground? Inside the cliff, perhaps? But she did not see any door that would lead to an underground area.

"Professor?" Iris said, grabbing the attention of McGonagall, who was looking at something in the distance closely, but Iris only saw the empty sky. "Where exactly is this?"

"The area for the first task is located on the plateau near the Hogwarts castle," McGonagall said, and Iris opened her mouth to tell her that it obviously wasn't, that McGonagall had gone just as barmy as Dumbledore, when suddenly, out of thin air, an absolutely enormous structure appeared in front of her.

Iris stopped and stared, eyes wide.

"The Fidelius Charm, Miss Potter," McGonagall said in amusement, clearly enjoying Iris's astonishment. Iris had heard of the Fidelius, of course. Having a bed next to Hermione for over three years, and now with the privacy charm covering only their two beds, she was treated to Hermione's rambling about all sorts of subjects nearly nightly — not that Iris minded much.

Nevertheless, it was still quite astounding, and a bit startling too, seeing such a large stadium appear from nowhere — and it didn't even appear to be _just_ a stadium. The stadium, where the stands were, was on the far end of the structure, near the edge of the cliff. Before that, however, there was something else, but Iris couldn't see what as large walls had been erected to block out the view. She did see a certain area behind the walls that had trees large enough to stand taller than the walls.

"The stands are on the far end," McGonagall said, and there might have been a bit of unease in her voice. "Inside those walls might be the areas you'll be going through. They didn't tell me much. Come."

They were coming upon a large tent now, the clear entrance to the arena. Iris saw that it was connected to the long walls that extended from both sides of the tent. Now that she was closer, she saw that the stands where everybody would be sitting were _much_ further down, and she wondered just how many magical creatures she would have to face. She doubted that the people in the stands would be able to see the first few she'd have to get through, especially if those trees were any indication. Whatever was there wouldn't be able to be seen by any of the audience.

That thought made her feel a bit better.

"Professor, will the audience be able to see the beginning? The stands are far away," Iris said hopefully.

"They will. They've enchanted Snitches to fly near you and record you, like a live muggle video recorder. Instead of the golden, all-metal ball, it'll be an eye. Everything it records will be shown on a magical screen at the stands, a bit like a muggle cinema," McGonagall said, and Iris had to suppress a groan. A Snitch would be recording everything? She didn't know such things existed, and while it was a creative solution, the idea of people getting to watch her up close like that made her feel ill.

"Oh. Fantastic."

McGonagall sighed. "I'm sorry you have to go through this. Do you have a plan?"

"I thought we weren't supposed to know anything, so how could I prepare?"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Potter. I'm positive you know something," McGonagall said briskly.

Iris smiled. "I might use the Summoning Charm a bit. Once to Summon a flute to put Mr. Cerberus to sleep. I might use my Firebolt to outfly you later on."

"Me?" McGonagall asked warily.

"Yeah, when you're angry, you look like you're ready to breathe fire —"

"So you know. Anything else?" McGonagall said stiffly.

"I've already had one adult tell me my plan wouldn't work, Professor. I'd rather not have my spirits crushed again. You'll just have to see. I've got a shield ready though, just in case."

McGonagall stopped. "What shield, Potter? Protego? I hope not, Protego will —"

"The Dragonfire Shield Charm, Professor," Iris interrupted.

"Nonsense, that's an extremely advanced shield," McGonagall said and continued walking.

"And what's a Patronus? A gardening spell?"

"Potter," McGonagall warned, and she motioned for Iris to enter into the tent.

"Hey, before we go in, could you Transfigure that rock into a cow?" Iris asked, pointing at a large rock.

"Why?"

"I didn't pay attention in your last class —"

"We didn't do inanimate to animate Transfiguration last class," McGonagall said.

"Fine. It's like you want me to die."

"Don't joke about manners such as that. There," she said, and she waved her wand at another rock. It changed into a cow a second later. Iris quickly stunned it.

"Potter, you can't Summon live beings…" McGonagall said.

Iris frowned. "Can you kill it for me?"

"No," McGonagall said shortly. "Come, you're making us late with this rubbish."

"Fine," Iris said, and she pointed her wand at the unconscious cow. She closed her eyes and muttered, "Confingo."

The cow exploded in flames.

"Potter, it's a Transfigured cow!" McGonagall said, exasperated. "It's not a real cow. A dragon wouldn't fall for it. Transfigured animals are nothing more than animated puppets, fueled by magic. Haven't you _ever_ paid attention in class? If it was that easy, food could be made from rock, from nothing — and that's impossible. Now get inside."

Iris obeyed and walked into the tent. It was as large as a classroom, and it looked as luxurious as Mr. Weasley's tent during the Quidditch World Cup. Comfortable looking couches and chairs lied throughout the tent, each accompanied by a table. It looked quite cozy.

Iris saw the other three champions already there. Krum scowled at her, no doubt still upset at the fact she laughed at his pain the night of the drawing. Iris didn't really blame him. She had been horrible that night; to everyone really. Cassius only gave her a moment's glance before nodding and turning the other way. He looked paler than normal, and Iris hoped he had believed her warning about the dragons.

Fleur gave her a weak smile, and she too was pale. She was sitting down on one of the couches inside the tent, trying to calm her slightly trembling hands. Iris gave her a bright smile, and though it wasn't a completely true smile, Fleur's eyes lost some of the worry. Iris walked over to Fleur and flopped down on the couch next to her.

"Sit tight, Potter," said McGonagall, and before leaving the tent, she added, "and good luck."

"Did you get your cloak back?" whispered Fleur, leaning over to Iris.

Iris nodded. "Yeah, Hermione gave it to me. Thanks for returning it, and sorry I didn't come and get it myself."

"Non, you let me borrow it, do not worry about it. Miss Granger seemed upset that you were not in the Great 'All that morning. Did you truly go to this… Aberforth?"

Iris smiled sheepishly.

"Tsk tsk," Fleur said playfully, and she visibly relaxed. "'Ow was the morning after?"

"I woke up in a haystack with a goat licking my face," Iris said. Fleur laughed, and the other two champions looked their way, surprised. "I honestly felt like I was dying for that entire day."

"Too young to drink, did I not say it?" Fleur said, still laughing softly. Iris felt an odd sense of satisfaction at being able to calm Fleur's nerves.

"You did," Iris admitted, "and I regret it. I missed my first two classes and was late for the third, Potions."

"That is is the angry Professor's class, Snape?" Fleur asked. Iris nodded. "I 'ave 'eard of students talking of 'is 'atred for you, and I've 'eard the man 'imself yell your name in the 'alls."

Iris snickered. "He's a git. I try to annoy him whenever I can. If I see him in the halls, I'll change his robes pink or something. I can't really do anything impressive while simply passing by him in the halls, but it's fun seeing him get angry. This whole _'no detentions'_ thing is great, really great."

"Taking advantage of it?"

Iris nodded happily, unabashed. "You kidding? If they aren't competent enough to stop an underage student's name from going into the Goblet, they deserve to suffer through my immaturity."

Fleur smiled. "I can't decide if you're arrogant or a kind soul, Iris."

Iris shrugged. "Neither."

"Ah, but you gave me your cloak, non? A priceless family 'eirloom as your friend pointed out."

"Wanted you to get to your bed safely," Iris muttered.

"And what of your own safety?"

"What did it matter? There's a decent chance I'll be dead within two hours," Iris said flatly. Fleur's face fell.

They had come full circle.

"Don't," Fleur said. "You are the only person in this place that I 'aven't regretted talking to. I'd be quite put out with you if you died. Cepedant, you are clearly not arrogant. You would not assume you'd die if you were." She grabbed some water from the table in front of the two.

Iris looked only surprised. She had heard the rest of Fleur's comment, but didn't want to respond. She really had to curb her urge to joke about her own demise. It might have made her feel better, adding humor to a serious situation that only affected her — well, no, it clearly would affect others if she died.

"The only? Surely not."

"This place is the same as Beauxbatons." Fleur scoffed. "Lecherous stares from boys, envious glares from the girls."

Iris looked over Fleur's face for a moment, puzzling Fleur. "Well, I don't know what they're envious of," Iris said, a slight tug on one side of her lips, the side Fleur could see. Fleur choked on her water, and before she could make a witty retort, Bagman burst through the tent flap. Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Moody, Dumbledore, Snape, and Crouch followed.

"Good heavens, why is there a flaming cow outside?"

Iris felt Fleur's amused eyes on her. "Must have been one of the dragons."

Everybody's heads swiveled to Iris, except Fleur, who simply snorted.

"You know?" cried Bagman.

"Potter!" snarled Snape.

"Dragons?" exclaimed Krum. He had evidently not known about them.

" _Dragons_? But the girl is joking, of course!" Madame Maxime said. Iris smiled at her and brushed her chin with a finger mockingly, staring pointedly at the chin of Madame Maxime, who scowled at her.

"Non, Iris is not joking. She and I saw the dragons a few days ago in the Forbidden Forest," said Fleur, shrugging indifferently. Madame Maxime stared at Fleur in shock, appalled that Fleur hadn't told her. Iris was a bit surprised herself.

"You cheated!" Krum blurted out.

"Absurd," Iris said in the most insincere voice she could manage. "We just happened to see them. I told Warrington here about them —" and Cassius Warrington nodded in confirmation, while Snape frowned "— and I was ready to tell you too, Krum, but you told me — hmm — ' _Run along and play with your dolls, child_ ,' was it?"

"Let us move on, shall we?" Dumbledore said, giving Iris a warning look, and his calm voice carried throughout the tent, stopping all conversation. Krum scowled at her. He motioned Bagman to speak.

"Well, welcome, welcome! I see some of you have made yourselves at home, just as you should," Bagman said happily, looking at Iris. "Let's begin. As you remember, this task will test your daring and courage! The first task will be an obstacle course, of sorts, with magical creatures as the main obstacles. There'll be six total stages of the task, six total obstacles, or sectors. The flower field and caves being the first, followed by the forest, the bridge, the lake, the abandoned building, and the stadium. Some of these locations might offer more than a single magical creature, and some might only offer one type. Following so far?"

Iris nodded along with the rest of the champions. Her mind was whirling with information already. She was facing at least six magical creatures. It was likely to be a dozen or more.

"Now, when you exit the tent, you will simply follow the only path you can, and eventually, once you reach the lake, there will be a Portkey in the center. Reach it and it will take you to the fifth sector. Another Portkey will be there to take you to the stadium. We — er — weren't allowed to bring what was in fifth sector near the students," Bagman said, looking nervously at Dumbledore.

What in the world could that be? The dragon? If the dragon was the fifth sector, what could be the sixth?

"Those will be the only two Portkeys you _must_ take to get to the end. However, we will be giving you Portkeys right now, and they should be used if you feel you do not wish to continue through the sector. These Portkeys are designed to change locations as you make your way through the sectors. Using a Portkey to skip a sector will have its penalties, however, and those penalties will be the points. A bit complicated, I know, but we wouldn't want you to get cornered by a rampaging creature and not have a way to survive it, would we?"

Bagman took out the Portkeys, which were small rectangular strips of leather, and Iris moved back to sit in a chair. Fleur gave her an odd look, but Iris ignored her. This was the chance for Bagman to give her the Essence of Dittany. With her far enough from the crowd, Bagman could easily slip it into her hands along with the Portkey.

Bagman seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for he slipped the piece of leather into her hand, the Essence of Dittany bottle right under it. He winked at her with a beaming smile and turned to stand back in his spot. Iris looked down at her leather and saw that it had _'The Second Sector'_ engraved into it.

"Simply say what's said on the Portkey, and you will be taken to the location," Bagman continued happily. "Careful to not say it by accident. We wouldn't want you to lose points by mistake, would we? Now, the points. Pay attention, for this may also get a bit confusing. The first two sectors will start you off with ten points each. Use the Portkey and you will lose these ten points. Complete the sector without the Portkey, and these ten points will be added to your score. The next two, the third and fourth sector, will have fifteen points to them. They will naturally be tougher."

 _Great_.

"The fifth sector will start you off with no points at all, for nothing positive can be gained here," Bagman said, attempting to sound mysterious. Iris had a good idea of what the fifth task held now, especially since Dumbledore looked a bit unhappy. "However, this will be a timed sector. For every minute that you spend in this sector, five points will be taken from your final score! Get past it in under a minute and no points will be lost. There will be no points to start off with in the sixth obstacle as well. Instead, there will be five judges that will judge your performance. It will be marks out of ten for each judge, leaving a total of fifty points available. The top score you can get from the whole task is one hundred points."

Bagman looked from face to face for every champion, smiling widely, but his smile faltered slightly when none of the other three champions smiled. He looked over to Iris, and she gave him a bright smile which brightened him up as well. On the inside, Iris was thinking on how this task was a bit more complicated than she had hoped.

"You're likely wondering just what the points do. Well, you should! The amount of points you gain will go towards the fifth and last task, but we won't be telling you the details now. The last thing, before we start, is the sixth and final sector. We will be telling you what you will be facing."

"Dragons?" Iris said.

"Dragons!" Bagman said brightly. "The sixth sector will be a dragon in the stadium. Of course, everybody will see _everything_ in the task via an enchanted Snitch…"

Bagman went on to explain how the Snitch worked, how they'll need to get a golden egg from the dragon, and that they'd each get a unique one. Bagman held out a bag, from which they each drew a miniature dragon. Unsurprisingly, Iris picked the worse one — the Hungarian Horntail. She didn't even blink. It was a little adorable, the miniature dragon. When they asked for the dragons back, Iris got rather defensive.

"I'm keeping her," Iris said.

"But — er — they're not exactly toys," Bagman said nervously. "They were special bred just for this —"

"You bred tiny dragons just for this ten second long moment?"

"Well, they were to be sold later —"

"I'll buy him," Iris said.

Bagman's eyes widened. "They're quite expensive," he said, chuckling uncertainly.

"Take it out of my Triwizard winnings." She waved Bagman off and returned to her seat. To her surprise, she saw Bagman grinning from ear to ear at her.

"Potter, give it back," sneered Snape.

"No."

"Potter," Snape said, nearly growling.

"Let it be, Snape," Crouch said, and Iris was sure everybody could hear the loathing he held for Snape as he spoke.

"Bagman, sir, may we continue? We'll talk about the price after the first task," Iris said. She hoped everybody would forget by then.

Bagman smiled at her and went to explain everything once more. He made sure they all understood, and said they'd go in the order in which they were selected from the Goblet of Fire. Krum, Fleur, Cassius, and then her, Iris. He explained the Snitch again, how Bagman would be commenting but those in the tent would only be able to hear the crowd, and not him, how there were certain potions they weren't allowed to take with them, such as Felix Felicis. It was first meant to be just their wands, but they realized the task would be harder than they first thought. He also spoke of how the only creatures we were allowed to kill would be before the end of the first sector.

"You are only allowed to kill any creatures before you come across Fluffy! Don't worry, you'll know who Fluffy is when you come across him," Bagman said, and Iris snorted quietly. "Should you kill any magical creatures that didn't come before Fluffy, you will not only lose all the points you could have gained, but the number of points for that sector will also be subtracted from your final score."

They weren't going to allow them to kill their magical creatures. The creatures themselves could kill _them_ just fine though. Bagman also said that they would be allowed to bring in only their wand, their wand holster, and whatever can fit inside said holster. He gave Iris a wink as he said this. At least she wouldn't have to worry about that — though, she still wondered how they would react if she downed a shot of firewhisky. She turned back to her dragon.

"I'm naming you Inigo," Iris whispered softly to the small Hungarian Horntail. "I'm definitely not going to sacrifice you to your larger counterpart, nope, not at all."

The newly named Inigo gave her an indignant sound, then let out a burst of fire. She threw herself backwards, onto the chair, and held Inigo far from her as the flames reached just far enough for her to feel the heat. It was still adorable.

"These little guys understand me? They know English?" Iris asked, looking up at the crowd with one of her eyebrows singed. While some of the crowd stared at her, clearly uncomfortable, she pulled her wand out and waved it over her scorched eyebrow, using her metamorph ability to regrow it in secret — her silence as she performed the _spell_ raised more eyebrows; it wasn't usual for a fourth year to be able to silently cast spells.

"He understands _you_ , Miss Potter," Dumbledore said, "not because you spoke English, but rather Parseltongue."

Iris's mouth opened in surprise. She hadn't even realized she was speaking it. "Dragons can speak Parseltongue?"

"Speak?" Dumbledore said, smiling. "Perhaps. I wouldn't know, as I am not a Parselmouth, but they do seem to understand it. They are related to snakes after all."

Iris smirked. Dragons could understand her. Perhaps getting past her dragon would be much easier than she anticipated. Talking with McGonagall, Fleur, and Bagman had taken her mind off the dragons, calming her somewhat, and so had the fact that she was closer to having this all done with. She didn't notice Dumbledore shaking his head imperceptibly. She did notice that half of those who were in the tent looked a bit uncomfortable about the topic. Crouch looked almost scandalized.

Bagman also handed out a parchment that listed what they could bring in besides their wand, as well as what they were forbidden to bring with them. It was rather strict. Iris was thankful that Essence of Dittany was not on the forbidden list. It would be silly for them to include it anyhow. Why take away a champion's chance at living through a wound? Firewhisky wasn't on the approved list, but it also wasn't on the forbidden list.

Iris saw Fleur put down the list, reach into her pocket, and jam something in between the cushions of the couch, keeping a carefully blank face the whole time.

"Remember, we'll see everything you do. Use something you're not supposed to, and you'll lose points for it," Bagman said.

And now it was time. The sun was making its descent from the sky. The hour had passed. The adults had all left and the champions were the only remaining ones left.

Krum was at the exit of the tent, the one that would lead them into the first area. She knew he was nervous; she could see it, and she didn't blame him. If she hadn't known about the dragons beforehand, she would have most likely just forfeited at the dragon. Then again, she had always been at her best when she was forced to improvise, when she was thrown into a dangerous situation without much warning.

They heard Bagman explain the rules again to the crowd in the stands, and then finally, shout, "Mr. Krum, please step through and begin the task."

Krum gave a nod to himself and stepped through. Bagman went quiet again; his enhanced voice was likely enchanted to not get through the tent now.

Soon after, she heard a faint buzzing from outside the tent, and she wasn't sure if it was distant crowd or not. She shared a look with Fleur. Inigo, who remained on her shoulder, let out a hiss at the tent exit. It was simply a hiss.

There was no full on communication with Inigo then. Iris frowned.

There was a collective gasp in the distance, and she turned her head towards the sound. It had already gotten dangerous for Krum then, and it hadn't even been two minutes.

"I'm going to kill Madame Maxime," Fleur suddenly said from the couch. "This is all so _stupid_."

"I know where you can toss her body. There's this trap door in a room on the third floor of Hogwarts. No one goes down there. No one would find her body," Iris said. Fleur stopped her muttering to stare at Iris, who kept her face blank as she walked over to sit down next to Fleur, who glanced at her warily.

It was over an hour later when Fleur's name was finally called. By that point, Iris had just started to ignore all the gasps, screams, and cheers. She _had_ heard Krum's dragon though, and had heard the crowd groan in disappointment just before it was announced that Krum had finally got his egg.

"And Viktor Krum receives a total of thirty-eight points from the judges, leaving his total score for the first task… fifty-eight points!" Bagman shouted. "Miss Delacour, if you would. It is your turn."

Iris raised her eyebrows at that. He must have killed one of the creatures or skipped two sectors if he only received a total of thirty points from the first few sectors. That or the fifth sector took him far too long.

Before Fleur got up, Iris clasped her hand, squeezed lightly, and let go. Fleur smiled at her after she got over her surprise, and exited the tent, still pale. Iris wasn't counting the time, but it was more than an hour later when Bagman had declared that she had gotten her egg. Iris wasn't sure what to think when he happily claimed that Fleur had been set on fire. On one hand, Fleur had been set on fire. On the other, Bagman didn't seem too worried about it.

"Fleur Delacour receives thirty-nine points from the judges, leaving her with a total of eighty-three points!"

Well, Fleur left Krum completely in the dust. If she wasn't so worried about Krum leaving _her_ in the dust, she would have smiled for Fleur.

It was just her now. Cassius had gone. She paced around the tent, getting in some last minute practice like she had done the hour Fleur was gone. She placed the Essence of Dittany in her wand holster, having hidden it in her pocket until everybody was gone. She didn't want the vial to break, and there would have been a good chance of it doing so had she fallen down while it was in her pocket.

The crowd gasped in excitement. Could it truly be so exciting that the crowd wouldn't get bored after three hours of this?

" _Tempus_."

 _6:35 PM_

By the time she got to the end, it might become dark. Would she have trouble seeing the black dragon in the dark? Not if it was spewing fire at her — she'd know exactly where it was then.

"Cassius Warrington has gotten his golden egg!" Bagman's voice said eventually, and the crowd erupted into her cheers and applause. Cassius had taken much longer than Iris had expected. A moment later, he spoke again, "And Cassius Warrington has received a total of thirty-nine points from the judges, leaving him with a total of seventy-eight points!"

Krum really got the short end of the stick, apparently. Iris could imagine him now, scowling at both Fleur and Cassius for making him look terrible. Now, if _she_ , Iris, could beat his score…

"And now, our very last champion! The youngest champion! Iris Potter!" Bagman shouted, and Iris was surprised to hear a loud cheer from the stadium ahead.

She stepped through the exit of the tent, head held high, her wand in her hand, the setting sun basking her face in an orange glow, and a storm brewing behind her chest. This was it. She could very well be dead within the next hour.

"Iris Potter begins the first task!"


	9. First Degree Burns

**Author's Notes:**

Somebody mentioned to me that my Dursleys must have been more abusive than canon for Iris to still be affected by them. Honestly, if anything, I think JK Rowling seriously downplayed the child abuse. Petunia swung a frying pan at his head often enough that he learned to duck it. He grew up in a cupboard. He was often called boy or freak. He didn't have _any_ friends. There's no way, realistically, that Harry would become this brave and witty sociable person the second he walks into Hogwarts.

The Dursleys here didn't beat Iris. They didn't torture her, rape her, brand her with a cross, or anything ridiculous like that. But she _did_ grow up in a cupboard. She was often called freak, girl, or _you_. She didn't get a chance to feel pretty, to dress nice, to play like a kid should. Ten years of that, _especially_ if it's in the early years of a person's life, will seriously fuck a person up. Iris was worse off than Harry when she first arrived to Hogwarts in this story, but she was mostly able to move past it by the time second year started. The stay with the Weasleys helped. Two years was enough for me to move past my issues with the people who raised me, so I don't think I'm being unrealistic with Iris.

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

 **First Degree Burns**

 **1994, November 24, First Sector.**

She was in a field of flowers, half the size of the Great Hall. There was an empty clearing on the far side of this small arena, where there were no flowers or grass, but instead, a wooden floor. Iris took this as the place she was supposed to go. Before she began to walk, she heard a fluttering behind her, and she turned.

There was the enchanted Snitch, an eyeball with two small white wings attached to the small bits of gold on both sides of the eye. Iris tilted her head at it, curiously. It was rather disturbing. She tore her own eyes off of it and stepped further into the field of flowers. Was something to jump out at her? Surely not. The grass wasn't nearly tall enough to let a creature large enough to hurt her hide inside. Of course, not every dangerous creature was large. She could think of a dozen different things that were small and capable of killing her —

There was buzzing, the same she had heard before, in the tent, and the flowers began swaying, though there was no wind. The field became a cacophony of color. There was no pattern, no coordination — they were all moving their own directions, as if each had a mind of its own.

And then, new flowers began crawling up from the existing flowers, and they were all blue. It looked as though flowerheads were sprouting from the stems of already existing flowers —

But they weren't flowers at all, for these new blue shapes were now reaching above the flowers, and none had stems. The buzzing was growing louder, and Iris finally realized what they were.

Billywigs.

Iris almost laughed. _These_ were unnerving her as they came from beneath the flowers?

Iris raised her wand, and put as much force into her spell as she could — though not lethal, there were enough to sting her to leave her levitating for weeks. " _Ventus_!"

The gust of wind that shot from the end of wand sent the majority of the billywigs spiraling out of control, but it wasn't enough. There was another version of the Wind Charm, but Iris couldn't seem to think of it. Instead, she said, " _Depulso_!"

This sent the billywigs even more out of control, and Iris took the opportunity to sprint to the wooden floor. She reached it in seconds, but there was nothing there. She looked at the ground, hoping to see a lever or handle of some sort — she even stomped on it, but her search was stopped short when the angry droning of the billywigs headed her way, vehemently.

 _Vehemently._

She whipped around and raised her wand, having suddenly remembered the more powerful version of the Wind Charm. " _Ventus Vehemens_!"

It was as though a giant had gotten on its knees and let out a gale of breath, as though there was a sudden hurricane in this very confined spot; the flowers, the grass, the billywigs, it was chaos. The grass looked as though a heavy boulder had just rolled through, flattening it temporarily. The billywigs that weren't directly in front of her were sent flying into the wall and the tent, and the ones closest to Iris were now laying on the ground, perhaps dead.

"Oh," Iris said in surprise.

"And Miss Potter has —" Bagman began, but before Iris could hear the rest of his amplified sentence, the wooden floor beneath her disappeared, and with a small yelp, she fell into depths of the abyss below, Bagman's voice no longer audible.

She turned as she fell, pointed her wand downwards, and performed a spell to slow her fall down drastically. It was one of the first spells Wood had taught her when she joined the Quidditch team. However, she didn't sense the feedback of the ground below, and yet she continued falling. She lit her wand, gave a little flick, and the ball of light shot downward.

The ball of light hit something, and Iris shouted her spell again, " _Arresto Momentum_!"

She felt herself slow down, and she could tell that it wasn't just her own spell helping her. Her spell would have let her land without breaking every bone in her body, but it wouldn't have been a fun landing.

Of course, they wouldn't have let a champion simply fall to their deaths. Of course they'd put their own charms in place. This, with the addition of Iris's own spell, greatly decreased her descent, and after a few moments, she spun herself in midair, and landed softly on the ground, feet first.

The Snitch came to fly steadily — more steadily than normal Snitches did — in front of her, and with irritation plainly shown on her face, Iris gave it a rude gesture with her hand.

It was the silence and darkness that greeted Iris as she took in her surroundings. It reminded her eerily of what happened in the Forbidden Forest. She flicked several more balls of light in every direction, illuminating the large cave. The darkness was replaced with walls full of spiders and bats both as large as house-elves, and snakes as long as brooms. The giant bats in particular looked more than a little irritated at Iris, their dark eyes glinting malevolently, either from anger or from the spells Iris had cast. Or perhaps both.

"Ah, Professor Snape! Good to see you," Iris joked at one of the larger bats. She was sure she could sense the vein bulging from Snape's forehead from here.

As she stood in the center of it all, the bats staring down at her from their high vantage points, the spiders staying silent and still on their walls, and the snakes slowly making their way towards her, she heard a small whining coming from one of her pockets. She found the pocket, and found Inigo inside, hiding.

"Coward," Iris whispered. It was likely for the best, however, because she wasn't sure if the judges would be happy if she had a pet dragon flying around helping her, setting anything dangerous on fire. "Stay in there, bud," she said, and she used her wand to stitch the pocket up half way. Inigo would be able to breathe and stick his head out, but he wasn't to escape this way.

And then she heard a whisper from near her: " _She must have one of ours._ "

Iris slowly turned her head to look in the direction of the noise, but found only snakes.

" _No_ ," hissed another snake, " _she is it. She is a speaker of ours. A Serpent-Tongue!"_

The snakes around this one erupted into hissing, and Iris could make out bits of the conversations — or rather, arguments:

" _Impossible, it is unlikely." "No, it is true." "She has no serpent in her clutches, it must be her!" "Blasphemy!" "Quiet, Rodent-Devourer!" "I have not said anything!" "Not you, the other Rodent-Devourer!"_

Iris stood frozen, her jaw hanging, as she listened to the snakes bicker amongst themselves.

" _Enough!"_ she hissed at the group, and they all turned to her.

The snakes burst out in hissing again. " _I told you!" "Speaker!" "Never would we expect this!" "Bow down to the speaker!" "We can not bow, imbecile." "Nonsense!_ "

" _Silence,"_ Iris hissed. " _Tell me, my friends, where the exit from this place is."_

Before they could answer, there was a _whoosh_ , and Iris felt something slam into her back. Sharp teeth dug through both her leather jacket and the sweatshirt underneath, into her shoulder, and painfully pierced the skin.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Iris before she instinctively reached her right hand over her shoulder, and felt a furry head. She grabbed it hard, and swung the bat over her shoulder and onto the ground in front of her. Before she could stomp on it, several snakes dove at the bat, hissing angrily.

She reached her fingers to where it stung. She had hoped nothing would get through two layers of charmed clothing so easily, but blood appeared on her fingers as she pulled them back. She wasn't that surprised. Even between her and Hermione, there were only so many charms they could place on a piece of clothing.

Iris heard another bat swooping down and she sidestepped it before it could attach itself to her. There was a soft clattering of steps now, and she saw the spiders making their way towards her, far quicker than she would have thought possible. She could imagine Ron's face paling.

" _The spiders!_ " Iris hissed urgently, but the snakes were already throwing themselves at the large spiders.

She ducked as another bat tried to pounce on her. " _Reducto_!" she said, and the bat was hit hard enough to send it back, its blood trailing the body. Another bat dove at her and it was nothing more than blood and bones after Iris tore it apart with another spell.

She glanced at the battle between the spiders and snakes, and saw they were tearing each other apart. She felt a bit of guilt, having ordered them to their death, but they had defended her before she had asked them to.

Several more dead bats later, Iris began making her way towards what looked like an exit. The bats seemed to have understood they couldn't take her down by themselves, and a dozen grouped together in the air, and began to dive at her. She raised her wand at them.

" _Confringo_!" Iris bellowed, pushing as much magic into her spell as possible, and the cluster of bats exploded in fire. Iris was forced to throw up a hasty Protego Charm when the cluster of bats turned into a flaming cluster of bats.

She cursed. The Expulso Curse would have done better there.

She leaped over several spiders and dead bats, shot a quick Flame-Stream Curse ( _Igneum Perpetua_ ) over her shoulder. She heard the shrieks of the burning bats, but didn't turn to look; she raced to the exit, a swarm of them flying behind her — she saw a wooden door. She threw a Shield Charm over her shoulder — the shield falter as at least a dozen bats slammed into it — she slammed into the door, turning the handle as she did so, and shut it as quickly as she had opened it. She heard several thuds on the other side.

" _Duro!_ " Iris said harshly, breathing heavily. The door turned to stone, and Iris immediately sent three balls of light into the room she was now in.

There was no need; the room was rather small and only had a ladder in it, which led up to a trapdoor.

" _Alohamora,_ " Iris whispered, and she heard the trapdoor unlock. Each step on the wooden ladder weakened not only the ladder itself but Iris's faith in the ladder holding up. She cast the Hardening Charm on the ladder and let it turn to stone before she tried again. She had a foreboding feeling about the door above though.

" _Expulso_ ," Iris said, pointing her wand up. There was a small flash of blue light before the trapdoor above her became an explosion of splinters, the wood reaching the ceiling of the room the trapdoor led into, and falling back down; Iris ducked her head down and threw her hood over her head before continuing the climb; the wood rained down, and indeed, it was as though only rain fell on her head.

She looked back up at the hole she had made. Why did she bother using the Unlocking Charm? She should have just blown it up from the beginning.

 _If they're going to try their hardest to kill me, I'll be damned if I don't blow up everything of theirs that I can_.

Inigo poked his black scaled head out of her pocket and hissed.

"Get back in there," Iris ordered. Inigo obeyed, but before Iris could continue her way up the ladder, she heard the crow of a rooster coming from the room above.

A rooster? It couldn't be just a rooster. Unless it's a thousand roosters, it was the sound of another creature. But what other creature sounded like that? Iris couldn't think of any as she made her way up the ladder.

She poked her head above the hole and looked around. There were numerous large crates and furniture scattered throughout the room, which was roughly the size of the Great Hall. She climbed through the hole and stood at the edge of it, observing her surroundings. She heard the pattering of light footsteps behind some crates, and she backed away from the hole in the ground. It wouldn't do to fall through and die that way.

She held her wand in front of her, ready for whatever it was that was lurking behind it all —

And then, green fumes came from behind one of the crates, and it began to spread throughout the room quickly. She had no idea what it was, but it _looked_ dangerous, just by its sickly green color.

Iris threw herself over one of the smaller crates, aimed her wand at the gas, and said, " _Incendio_!"

Before the flame even visiblyreached the smokish substance, the entire area covered by the green fume exploded in fire — Iris was forced to duck behind the crate to avoid being scorched. She hoped it killed whatever it was that was there with her.

There was a loud and angry screech from right behind her. Her instincts kicked in — she threw herself to the side just as a spiked tail slashed across the ground where she had hidden. Iris looked up, wide-eyed, at the creature. It stood on top of the smoldering crate. It was a creature with two legs, a scaly body, two large feather wings, and a rooster's head; it was about the size of a hippogriff, but much thinner and more serpent-like.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Iris muttered.

A cockatrice? They added a cockatrice on top of everything else? It was as if they actually wanted her to die. Didn't one injure several judges in one of the previous tournaments, and they were adding one as _part_ of a task?

The cockatrice opened its mouth, and Iris saw the green vapors — she had a spell ready: " _Ventus Vehemens_!"

The fumes coming out of the cockatrice's mouth were immediately blown back with the owner. The cockatrice flopped backwards, unto the ground, and slid back several feet before getting back up, screeching, and charging Iris again.

" _Confringo!"_ Iris yelled, but the spell bounced right off the cockatrice and into a table, causing it to burst into fire. Iris racked her brain for the reason for this. She threw a Reductor Curse, a Blasting Curse, an Expulso Curse, a Stunning Spell, but all they did was slow it down. Cockatrice's were incredibly resistant to magic, apparently.

The cockatrice lunged at her — _"Protego!"_ — Iris dove behind a group of large crates and navigated her way through the tightest spots she could, hoping the cockatrice would be too large to follow her too deep in the maze of wood. She could hear the cockatrice searching for her, tearing apart anything it could; she had really pissed it off. What was she to do now?

A plan formed in a split second. She would just need something to cover the hole.

Iris burst through an opening from the crates — she sent a table and several chairs at the cockatrice with an overpowered Banishing Charm. Unlike the Expulso Curse, the Banishing Charm wouldn't destroy whatever its target was, even if it was overpowered; it would magically push the targets away, and in Iris's usage just now, at a great speed.

Iris slid behind a crate and banished it at the direction of the cockatrice. She barely heard the pained squawk — she flipped a table over and sent two Severing Charms at the table legs.

The cockatrice was back again, and Iris rolled sideways, narrowly dodging another swipe of its tail. She grabbed a table leg, threw it in front of her, and Banished it at the cockatrice. To her great pleasure, it went straight into its throat, and the cockatrice reeled back, choking.

Iris grabbed the other three table legs and began transfiguring each of them. It was slower than she wanted, but she had never been the best at Transfiguration. By the time she had gotten two of them, the cockatrice had coughed up the table leg and Iris was forced to throw the third table leg aside.

The cockatrice leapt at her — Iris grabbed the two small transfigured spears with both hands, her wand left forgotten on the floor — what good was it now really? — just as with the basilisk and the sword, she threw her entire weight behind the spears — one spearhead pierced a weak spot on its neck, the other bounced off the scales.

The cockatrice's momentum pushed the spear further in, and it attempted to reel back once more, this time with a spearhead in its throat. Iris let go. She turned, kicked the tabletop, letting it slide just above the hole she had created. She went to grab her wand, but was forced to withdraw her wand as the cockatrice's tail swiped near the spot. She picked up the other spear, swung on her heels, and swiped at the cockatrice —

The force of her swipe and the hard scales of the beast caused her to drop the spear as it vibrated hard in her hands. It was no matter — she reached for her wand, turned, and leapt as far as she could — she flew over the table top, somersaulted, turned on her knees, and it was just as she hoped: the cockatrice was running straight for her.

" _Accio Tabletop!_ " Iris shouted, and the tabletop left its spot at precisely the correct moment. It slammed into her knees painfully, but the hole was unveiled — the cockatrice leapt over the hole and at Iris instead — she lifted the tabletop at the last second, the claws of the creature latching onto the wood itself. Its beak began attempting to pluck the skin of her face off — she had to tilt the tabletop in a manner to get it to back off, and then, with the greatest physical effort it had surely ever cost her, she managed to push the cockatrice off of her and towards the hole.

It tried to escape, but with Iris manoeuvring the table just so, its claws were unable to escape the wood. Iris managed to push on of her legs up, and she used the ground as something to push against. She threw her whole weight behind the tabletop and pushed as hard as she could. The cockatrice was so busy trying to stop the push that it didn't think to simply reach over and jam its beak into the back of her neck.

With one final push, something she should not have been physically capable of doing, given the fact the cockatrice was twice her size, she toppled the cockatrice over and into the hole. It screeched the entire way down, until —

There was a soundly _thud_ , and the room was completely silent with the exception of the young champion's heavy breathing.

She knew she wasn't done with the first sector yet — there was at least a three-headed dog left, but an immense feeling of satisfaction, relief, and delight washed over her. She, Iris Potter, a _fourteen year old girl_ , had just killed a cockatrice single-handedly, and she had gotten away without a scratch —

That reminded her. She felt along her left shoulder and felt wetness. She had completely forgotten about healing the bat bite in her adrenaline, which, admittedly, was still running through her veins. She took her leather jacket off and tossed it aside, ignoring the angry hissing coming from inside the jacket. She pushed the collar of the sweatshirt aside.

It wasn't pretty. Two large puncture holes were drilled into the back of her shoulder, and blood was still seeping out and running down her front and back. It was only then that she realized that parts of her sweatshirt, from top to bottom, were drenched in her blood.

" _Episkey,_ " she said, holding her wand to her wound. The two holes sealed up instantly, but to her dismay, the skin didn't seal back up to the point where there was no signs of a wound ever having happened. She tried the heal the wound again, but nothing came of it.

"Damn it," Iris said irritably, glaring at the Snitch hovering in front of her, which was observing her. "Bagman, you're buying me a new shoulder."

Iris put her jacket back on and got up from the floor. She looked around, trying to find another door, but saw none. She looked up, and saw another trapdoor on the ceiling, but with no way up there.

Then she noticed that it was right above where the first trapdoor was. She bent over the hole, and saw something that made her cringe. The ladder she had climbed up on was supposed to be pushed up to this room, to be used to get up to the next trapdoor. It had a little contraption that seemed to be there to help her slide the ladder up, amongst the little rollers. Only now, it was completely ruined.

She would have used a simple Mending Charm, had she known what in the world to visualize as she cast it. She tried anyway.

 _Nope_ , it was Levitation Charms then.

And a minute or two later, she had successfully built a rough staircase made of crates leading up to the trapdoor. As she stood on top of the highest crate, she noticed an engraving on the trapdoor.

 _Fluffy. Kill no more beyond this door._

So Fluffy was next. She doubted she could Summon her flute here, definitely not while she was underground. She had no idea if Fluffy was magically resistant. Most likely. Otherwise, Quirrell would have just hit him with a Stunner.

There was only one easy solution.

She hoped Fluffy liked cockatrice.

* * *

 **The Stands**

Hermione was digging her own nails into her skin, her heart beating fast. Fleur was sitting next to her, still a bit shaken by what she had been forced to fight through during her turn. Madame Maxime had asked her to sit by her, but Fleur refused; she was outraged by how dangerous the first task was and the fact that she wouldn't even be in it if Madame Maxime hadn't tried so hard to get her to put her name in the Goblet didn't help matters. When Iris began commanding the snakes, Fleur noticed that the crowd grew uneasy.

A large part of the crowd laughed collectively when Iris blew the trapdoor up, laughed again when she nearly blew _herself_ up, and laughed once more at Iris's disbelief at the fact she'd have to face a cockatrice.

 _If only she knew what was coming._

Fleur grimaced as Iris dodged another swipe of its tail. Her own cockatrice was just as dangerous, so she had resorted to using all the junk in the room to transfigure herself numerous tools. A large crate was turned into an iron cage. Chairs were strung together to eventually form a long iron chain, which she wrapped around the cockatrice. She wrapped one end of the chain to a bar of the cage, and began merging the two metals into one, thereby pulling the cockatrice slowly into the cage as the chain shortened from the merging. It was simply a case of sealing the cage from that point, and casting the occasional Wind Charm to blow away the cockatrice's toxic fumes.

She wouldn't dream of taking the creature clutching spears or — what was she doing with that tabletop?

The crowd watched in stunned silence as Iris fought the cockatrice single-handedly, as her plan eventually unfolded, and as Iris pushed it through the hole, killing it.

"My goodness!" Bagman exclaimed excitedly. "Miss Potter has just slain her cockatrice through physical means! Incredible! Oh-ho! Leave it up to Miss Potter to make a joke while bleeding to death!"

Fleur heard Hermione took a deep breath beside her.

"Buy her a new shoulder?" Bagman burst out laughing. "I must say, a sense of humor after a deadly experience such as that — let's hope Miss Potter stays alive to continue that sense of humor."

"Shut — up — Bagman," Hermione bit out.

"And what's she doing now? Is she Summoning — oh dear, she is! She's Summoning the cockatrice's body. Is she doing what I think she is?"

Fleur watched amusedly as Iris opened the second trap door and magically flung the cockatrice's body through it. After nothing happened, Iris climbed through herself, to find herself facing Fluffy, the three-headed dog, who was staring at her in a manner that he did not use for Fleur.

Fluffy had begun growling immediately when Fleur had entered that room. She had been forced to put the dog to sleep with a charm. With Iris, however, Fluffy almost seemed _glad_ to see her.

"Hey Fluffy!" came Iris's voice from the screen. "Good to see you!"

Fleur's lips twitched. _Of course_ she would have already met the dog. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione and Ron share a furtive glance. "I should not be surprised that she already knows this dog, should I?"

"I won't be surprised if she already knows the dragon," Hermione grumbled.

"I'm sure she will make it out of this okay."

"She's already gotten herself injured and she's only a sixth of the way through!" Hermione said, before she buried her face in her hands, peaking at the screen through her fingers.

Fluffy was absolutely delighted when Iris gave him the cockatrice's body — happily let Iris walk right on by and through the door leading to the beginning of the second sector.

"And Iris Potter has gained her first ten points for the task!" Bagman yelled and the crowd burst into applause as Iris walked into the second sector's arena; Fleur noticed some of the crowd clapping only politely. "It just goes to show how many problems can be fixed with some food. Speaking of, is there a waiter nearby?"

Hermione sent a fond smile at Ron, who was nodding along.

On the other side of the stands, Draco Malfoy was staring at the screen in dismay. He had just lost fifty galleons. He had stupidly bet that Potter wouldn't have gotten past the first sector without either dying or being forced to use her portkey to skip it. Several people had taken him up on his bet, and now he was fifty galleons poorer. Fifty galleons itself was nothing to him, but it was the fact that Potter that had done much better than he had expected that was worrying him.

He had also bet that Potter would come in last place. If she came in at least third place, he'd owe another two hundred galleons. If she came in at least second, he'd owe a hundred extra on top of the two hundred. And if she somehow came into first place, he'd owe an extra fifty galleons. That meant that if she won first place, he'd owe _all_ the people that took a bet against him; around four hundred galleons. The possibility of Potter coming into first place was absurd, and yet, many Gryffindors had gladly taken on his bet.

The growing unease of Iris's use of Parseltongue didn't go unnoticed by Dumbledore either, and he was beginning to regret telling Iris that Parseltongue could be useful the night before. Apparently, the majority of people still found the ability evil.

 _No matter, it'll all blow over as these things usually do._

He watched as Iris was attacked and bit by one of the bats, how she kept a cool head and fought her way out without succumbing to fear. He wasn't sure if he should be proud, or hate the fact that one as young as her had gone through so much that this type of ordeal wasn't worth panicking about. Then again, who was he to complain? He _was_ the one who set up the events leading to Iris confronting Quirrell. He really had no right to complain about fate if he had once been one to design it.

* * *

 **The Second Sector**

It wasn't the Forbidden Forest, she was certain of that. It was much brighter, more green, and it had no foreboding sense of doom. Well, at least not in the same way the Forbidden Forest did. This was still part of the Triwizard Tournament.

The trees were scarce, leaving plenty of room for the dying sunlight to beam down and warm her skin; it felt wonderful, especially after the cold, damp, and dark cave. The trees were so scarce, in fact, that it left plenty of room for three hippogriffs to soar from above and onto the ground below, landing next to several other hippogriffs which Iris only just noticed.

She walked to them, slowly, carefully, her wand nowhere in sight. They watched her with cautious eyes. She bowed, again slowly, carefully, her eyes never blinking as she locked gazes with the hippogriff in front of her. She held the gaze for a few moments before the hippogriff bowed to her. Iris straightened up and held out her hand, hoping to be able to pet the hippogriff.

"It appears Miss Potter is trying to get friendly with the hippogriff! We only saw Miss Delacour try this before," Bagman's amplified voice said from the stands. Iris tuned him out.

The one in front of her took a few step towards Iris, and brushed its beak against her palm. Iris rubbed its beak and feathers, smiling softly. She wondered if —

There was a sudden screech and Iris whipped her head around. A hippogriff, on its hind legs, was coming down upon her — she used the beak of the hippogriff in front of her to push herself away. She felt a sharp pain on her upper arm as she rolled away. The friendly hippogriff backed away as Iris flicked her wand out into her hand and cast the Shield Charm to stop the other from charging at her again.

" _Arietes Augue!_ " Iris said angrily, her elbow reaching back, and the hippogriff was engulfed in flames a second later, toppling backwards from the force of the spell. It screeched in pain and galloped away, jumping soon after into a large pond of water that Iris had not seen.

Iris scrambled to her feet and stood defiantly, glaring at the rest of the hippogriffs, daring each to just try; _try as the last one did and see what happens._ Most of them didn't seem to care that she had just set one of their own on fire, which surprised her. If they wanted to, they could all come at her at once, and she wouldn't stand a chance. She could portkey out, she supposed. Her portkey had updated to say, ' _The Third Sector,_ ' when she had taken her first step into the forest.

Iris looked at her left upper arm and saw it was bleeding slightly. It was a shallow cut, thankfully. With a murmured, " _Episkey_ ," the wound sealed up and the skin looked as though there was never a cut in the first place. She cast a spell to clear up the blood, and another to repair her torn jacket and sweatshirt.

She didn't think the area around the previously torn section would protect her anymore, but she was sure that it had when the hippogriff had attacked. Malfoy might have exaggerated the wound on the days after the attack, but she knew the hippogriff could have easily broken her arm like one had Malfoy's if she and Hermione hadn't charmed her clothing.

"Thank you, Hermione," Iris murmured. She looked up at the hippogriff she had petted. She tilted her head at it, wondering if the judges would stop her from doing this. It would be the best choice. She had no idea where she was supposed to go from here. Just straight on? Why not get a better vantage point? "What say you and I take to the skies?"

She moved towards the hippogriff, making sure not to make any sudden movements, and began petting the hippogriff once more.

"What do you say?"

The hippogriff looked at Iris for a moment longer, and then it lowered itself to the ground, letting Iris slide onto the back.

"Look at this!" Bagman shouted. "Miss Potter is going to ride a hippogriff, therefore bypassing some of the other obstacles! I'm not even sure if she's allowed to do this."

Iris stared at the Snitch in disbelief. Had Bagman really just told her she'd be capable of flying over them? She was just planning on seeing where she had to go, but if she could just fly over them…

She hopped on the hippogriff's back. "Let's go, beautiful."

The hippogriff gave a chirp, spread its wings, and lifted off. Iris was forced to duck as she came dangerously close to being knocked off by a heavy branch.

"And off she goes!" Bagman shouted in delight, bursting into chuckles after.

The two cleared the trees and soared above the treetops. Inigo stuck his little head out to feel the wind. Iris had a good look at everything from here. The forest she was in wasn't that large, but she reckoned it would still take her roughly five to ten minutes to make it out of there on foot.

It was then that she noticed where she was. She saw the cliff and the stadium from far above her. The entire time, she thought she was within the walls she saw, but she apparently wasn't. She wondered what those trees were for then, the ones inside the walls on top of that cliff, because they weren't the trees from the forest she was just in. She was still in some arena, however, as she could see the walls even down here.

Up ahead, beyond the forest, there was a stone bridge that crossed over a river. She thought she saw something near the water, but her hippogriff had suddenly snapped its head to the right. Iris looked in the same direction but saw nothing. She heard it though. A rushing sound, as though something large was flying quickly through the air. Was it another hippogriff?

She saw the shadow before its owner rammed into her and the hippogriff. The force pushed her wand out of her hand and it fell into the forest below. Iris didn't have time to look at what it was that was attacking them as she was too busy holding onto the hippogriff; she couldn't stop her fall now, not without her wand.

There were screeches coming from her hippogriff and the other beast, which Iris had now realized wasn't another hippogriff. hippogriffs didn't have wings that big. Her hippogriff whined in pain, and Iris realized they were falling slowly. The hippogriff tried fighting back, but whatever this thing was, it was larger and stronger. They twisted and maneuvered around each other in midair.

Iris swung her fist at this new creature. It did nothing. She wasn't sure what to do. The hippogriff spun in a spiral and Iris's legs repeatedly fell from the hippogriff only to crash back on. And then a great yellow beak nearly tore her throat out, and it would have hadn't Iris turned around to look for the thing attacking her.

She saw it clearly for the first time, just before her hippogriff crashed into the branches of a tree below. It looked like a hippogriff, but with a lion's body, and with larger wings. The hippogriff slammed into a large branch, sending Iris flying forward from the sudden stop in speed. She rammed through several small branches, one large one, and fell into a bush.

She groaned as many spots in her body ached in pain.

The griffin landed near her and the hippogriff. It didn't seem interested in the hippogriff however. It was looking around for her. She desperately wished she had snakes to help now. And then she realized.

She reached into her pocket, making sure to not make too much noise, and pulled Inigo out. He hissed at her.

" _Enough!_ " Iris whispered furiously in Parseltongue. " _Inigo, we'll both be dead if you don't listen. I need my wand. I don't know where it landed. I'll direct you in the general location. When you find it, send out flames into the air, okay? If I die, you'll be eaten. Get it?_ "

Inigo didn't do anything to make Iris think he had understood at all, but she set him down in the grass anyway, giving him a small push towards the direction she assumed her wand had fallen in. She desperately hoped it hadn't fallen into a tree. Could Inigo even fly?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the bush was suddenly smacked with a wing. Iris tumbled out of the bush, grabbing a branch as she rolled to her feet — she had it up for not even a second before a claw slapped it back down.

It landed on top of her foot and Iris kicked it right back into her hand as the griffin rose on its hind legs to attack one last time. The griffin faltered for a second, and it was enough. Iris positioned herself in front of the griffin, in a stance that would allow her to pull back the branch if the griffin tried to smack it down again, and also to be ready to ram the sharp branch into the griffin should it charge.

There was a moment of silence, where Iris and the griffin slowly circled each other. Iris realized she was at the top of a hill, at the very edge of it. She knew she couldn't win this fight.

Iris dug into her pocket and pulled out the strip of leather. That second of movement was a mistake — the griffin lunged at her — Iris grasped the branch with both hands and held it in front of her, positioning it to stop both strikes. The griffin's claws slammed into it — the branch shattered, sending several splinters into her hands — Iris felt an excruciating pain across her thigh and she couldn't hold back the cry of pain.

She tripped backwards, one bloodied hand clutching her thigh and other the portkey, and she tumbled down the hill, each roll becoming more painful than the last. She crashed onto flat ground with a gasp, most of the air in her lungs having been knocked out as she hit the ground chest first.

She turned on her back, still clutching the leather portkey. The griffin was nearly upon her; it was sprinting down the hill now — it would soon leap and land on her, its claws likely digging deep into her chest. She'd be dead in a few seconds if she didn't use the portkey. They was no other choice. She'd have to lose the points. She sent a pulse of magic into the portkey with her fingers —

Then she had a sudden and very stupid idea, one that might cost her the points anyway, one that might not even work, one that might forfeit her last chance at surviving.

The magic in the portkey was still at work, she could feel it.

The griffin was near now, only a dozen or so meters away, so close, so ready to kill her.

With a great effort, and not without any pain, she lifted herself on one elbow —

 _The griffin was leaping now._

She pulled back her other arm, the one with the portkey, her fingers still sending pulses of magic into it — and she hurled it. "The Third Sector!" Iris cried out.

The griffin was descending now, its claws only feet away from her torso. There was a small distortion in the air, a fracture of time and space, and the griffin was gone.

Iris only vaguely heard the audience's screaming, and Bagman's frantic yelling. She let herself rest back against the dirt, breathing heavily. She couldn't believe it had work. She couldn't believe she had even tried it in the first place! What was she thinking? She might lose points for it anyway.

The Snitch flew in front of her, trying to get a better look at her no doubt, perhaps to even see if she was still alive. Iris certainly felt dead.

"Bagman?" she asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence before Bagman's booming voice replied, "Yes, Miss Potter?"

"Since I didn't go with the portkey, that means I don't lose my points, right?"

Iris heard distant laughter and the amplified laughter of Bagman. "No, Miss Potter, you technically did not use the portkey yourself, so your points remain."

Iris smiled weakly. The adrenaline was starting to slowly fade away, and the pain was coming back in full force. She was fairly certain she had not broken any bones, and that was good. A broken bone meant that she was likely out of the task. No amount of Dittany would fix that. Her entire body still hurt though, and that, at the moment at least, really wasn't much of a difference when it came to continuing or not continuing the task. She'd rather lay down and sleep.

She looked down to her left thigh and saw far too much blood.

"Miss Potter, say the word and we'll send someone in to —"

"No," Iris interrupted. "Half of that damn stadium thinks I'm going to die or come in last place. I want to see their faces when I end up in the first place," she whispered.

There was another moment of silence.

"Very well," Bagman said. There was an undertone to Bagman's voice that made Iris think that Bagman was trying very hard to not cheer at Iris's words. She guessed that he had likely bet on her himself, and that coming in first place would be very rewarding for him indeed.

Iris closed her eyes. The cuts on her thigh were beginning to become nearly excruciating now that the adrenaline was dying down. She saw the grass around her soaking with blood. She reached into her sleeve and slowly removed the Essence of Dittany from her wand holster, the numerous splinters in her hand making even that process painful.

"It seems as though Miss Potter has some Essence of Dittany with her," Bagman said, and Iris could hear the sly smile in his voice.

She looked down to the wound. It wasn't _a_ wound. It was three wounds. Three of the griffin's talons had made its mark. The sight of the bloody mess increased the pain, and Iris had to grit her teeth to not whimper. She wouldn't. She had let out a cry of pain when it happened, but no more. Not while everybody was watching. She wouldn't make a noise, no matter how much the middle gash, the deepest one, made her want to.

She tore apart the fabric around the cuts, leaving a large hole in side of her trousers, and she began letting drips of the potion fall onto all three cuts. Her arm ached as it moved, and her hands burned with the splinters dug within the skin. She could deal with that later. She had already lost too much blood. The griffin's cuts were more serious.

The cut above her knee was thankfully shallow enough that the potion made it close up instantly, leaving only the faintest of scars. The gash in the middle of her thigh was deep and disgusting. She didn't think it was deep enough that she could reach the bone with a finger, not unless she really pushed in, but it bled profusely, drenching her entire leg in blood. Iris had to pour the majority of her potion on it to get it to close. The healing process was agonizing and she closed her eyes to stop the tears of pain from leaking out.

She only opened her eyes after a moment and she saw the skin slowly knitting itself together. She let out a deep breath through her nose. She used the remainder of her Essence of Dittany on the slash on her upper thigh, which wasn't shallow, but still not as deep as the middle one.

As the upper cut was healing, Iris looked over the other two. The lowest one remained faint enough that Iris had some hope it wouldn't be noticed if one didn't look close. The middle one had healed fully now, and Iris looked on in disgust at the scar. Tough looking? Sure, but it wasn't pretty. It wasn't _cool_. It already looked days old, and it was ugly.

Iris rose to her feet slowly, tossing the empty vial aside. Dull aching pains sprung up over her entire body. It wasn't a surprise, really. She had hurtled through several branches and had also tumbled down a hill. Was she really expecting that the damage was all gone now that she had used some Essence of Dittany?

She began to walk back up the hill, little by little, thinking of getting her wand, each step causing pain to shoot up both of her legs, and especially in her thigh. Though the cuts were sealed, they still stung.

It was five slow minutes later when she finally came upon her wand. She had walked up the hill to see a burst of fire erupting from the grass in the distance. There, where the fire had come from, she found Inigo, lying on his back, his wings spread lazily, spewing fire every couple of seconds. He tilted his head when she appeared over him and let out a small squeak of what must have been pride, for there, right next to him, was her wand.

"Before one of you complains," Iris said, picking up her wand and looking directly at the Snitch, "a pet dragon was not on the list of forbidden items."

Iris scooped up Inigo, petted him with a single finger, and placed him back in her pocket with a hissed, " _Thank you."_

"Besides, I would have found the wand without Inigo anyway," Iris continued. "So unless you wished to watch me search the grass for half an hour, or you believe the true challenge of the Triwizard Tournament is to stare at the ground, don't bother complaining about Inigo helping me."

It took a moment, a moment in which Iris began walking back towards the direction she believed the bridge and river to be, but eventually Bagman said, "No points will be taken from Miss Potter as she has, once again, not broken any rules, _technically._ "

Iris sat back down and began healing all her bruises. " _Episkey_ ," she repeated at every bruise she could find on her body. It was a minute or two later when she finally felt she was ready to continue the task. She didn't care if the audience had gotten bored, simply watching her heal herself. They weren't the ones that were nearly killed by a rampaging griffin.

She was still a little surprised that she wasn't dead or at least dying. Many wizards and witches who go up against a griffin usually don't stand much of a chance, and that's with their wands. It wasn't exactly as though she had done any damage to the griffin, but she had lived, hadn't she? Now that she had time to think about it, she was getting a bit angry. They set a griffin on her. The cockatrice wasn't enough? What the hell else would she go up against? A manticore? She'd leave the damn planet if they made her battle a manticore.

She ignored Bagman's commentary as she neared the edge of the forest, but she couldn't ignore the strange sound coming from behind her. It sounded like moaning and creaking wood. She turned around. Though there was no longer any light to be seen through the treetops, she saw the trees still, and it was likely what she was supposed to see, for a few of the trees were walking towards her.

Animated trees? _Really_?

"No," Iris said, shaking her head resolutely. "I'm so done with all of this. _Igneum Perpetua!_ "

The walking trees were quickly engulfed in flames and Iris set the nearby trees and grass on fire as well, just for good measure. She turned around and continued walking towards the end of the forest, casually, as if there wasn't a raging fire just behind her.

A single remark from Bagman slipped into her ears, pleasing her greatly. "And Iris Potter continues to leave a wake of destruction behind her!"

Iris snorted. A bit of an exaggeration, wasn't it? She glanced back at the blazing forest. The sun had dipped well below the horizon now, but the orange glow of a sunset remained, and it was due to the inferno, which was spreading far quicker than Iris had expected. Would she lose points if the fire killed a hippogriff? Surely they would flee from the fire.

She turned her back to it and continued forward. It was all so stupid. The other three got to complete their task in the daylight. She'd have to do hers under the darkness? She doubted the others cared. Iris Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, fighting to the death as a great forest fire lit up the night sky behind her. It was certainly dramatic enough to make the front page of the _Daily Prophet_.

There was a loud bellow of pain from behind her. Iris turned around and saw a large shape emerge from the forest, howling as it tried to put out the flames that licked up the majority of its body. Apparently there had been a troll in the forest.

She couldn't kill it. She wasn't sure if the fire would eventually do it for her. Sighing, she lifted her wand and said, " _Lumos_ _Maxima_." She flicked her wand in the direction of the opposite bank of the river, hoping the ball of light would be stopped there instead of continuing past the river.

The river was illuminated by her spell and she crouched down, hoping the darkness would hide her, as what she now knew to be a forest troll stomped its way to the water, no doubt hoping for some instant relief.

And then the bridge burst into pieces.

There was a roar of anger as another troll made its way from the river onto land. Its skin was purple and incredibly droopy, and its stomach actually hung below its own knees. It was an unpleasant sight, but Iris didn't have time to dwell on it. The river troll had begun grabbing pieces of the stone bridge and throwing them at the flaming forest troll.

Then there was a cacophony of screeching and piercing cries, and a group of flying hippogriffs swooped down from the sky, landing on the bank of the river.

The griffin Iris had portkeyed away flew from above the forest too. It had apparently gone right back into the forest after being transported to the third sector. Iris realized she had forgotten about the portkey.

" _Accio Portkey,_ " Iris whispered as she watched the carnage unfold in front of her. The forest troll had put out the fire and was now wrestling the river troll. The griffin was looking ready to attack several hippogriffs at once, but neither side seemed to want to make the first strike.

The portkey hit her arm and Iris caught it before it hit the ground. She stuffed it into her pocket. There was a thud, one awfully close to her. It couldn't have been either of the two trolls, as they were both in the water, and their steps were muffled by it.

There were more thuds now and they were rapid. Whatever it was, it was clearly running, and in her direction. Iris turned around and saw a mountain troll charging directly at her.

"This feels like a reenactment of my last three years at Hogwarts," Iris said as she stood up, and aimed her wand at the mountain troll — she only had a few moments. The troll had a club, like the one in her first year carried, but at its running speed, she had no hopes of levitating it and dropping it on its head.

" _Accio Club. Incarcerous_!"

The club was wrenched from the troll's hand and it flew towards Iris. The ropes, however, did not come from the tip of her wand. She wasn't surprised. It was N.E.W.T. level spellwork and she still hadn't been able to perform it. The troll slowed down, confused by the fact it was missing its club.

She sidestepped the now sliding club, and was forced to form up a new plan on the spot. " _Accio Club_!" she said again, and the club flew back towards her. This time, as she sidestepped it once more, she cast another spell: " _Ventus Vehemens_!"

To her dismay, the club barely gained any speed. Despite its power, the club was still too heavy for the Wind Charm, which was mostly designed to blow away numerous _small_ objects. The troll had already begun running again. It picked up its club on the way and swung it at Iris — she flattened herself against the ground as the air just above her hair _whooshed_.

She flipped on her back. " _Vexo Oculorum_!" Miraculously, for she did not expect her aim to be true, the Conjunctivitis Curse struck one of the troll's eyes; Iris was already rolling to avoid a swing from the club when she realized she had been successful. She fired off another Conjunctivitis Curse in hopes of getting the other eye, but it missed, for the troll was jumping about as though doing so would fix its eye. Iris cast one more, and this time, she was successful.

With the troll blinded, she leapt to her feet, firing off two Expulso Curses. She knew it wouldn't wound the troll, but it certainly pushed it back. Iris jumped backwards as she cast the two spells, and when she was certain she was far enough, she tried her previous plan again.

" _Accio Club_!" The club flew from the troll's hands and almost barrelled into her. She Summoned the club again once it settled onto the ground behind her. It flew at her once more, and this time, she cast a spell designed to push objects away from her, regardless of their weight, within reason of course: " _Depulso_!"

With the momentum of the Summoning Charm, combined with the Banishing Charm, the club was sent into the troll's legs at great speed. There was a loud, sickening _CRACK_ , and the troll collapsed on its own two legs, howling with pain.

Iris was so fed up with the entire task that she didn't spare the troll another glance, no matter how much it was wailing. She looked to the others. The hippogriffs were beginning to flee and the griffin was nowhere in sight. Iris Summoned the club again, and with another Banishing Charm, she sent it at the wrestling trolls.

It thumped the river troll in the back of the head, and it fell face first into the bank of the river. The forest troll looked around, confused. The only thing it saw was a jet of fire heading straight for it. Iris could have sworn she heard it yelp as it dove into the water, swam to the opposite bank, and ran to the trees that weren't on fire.

"Trolls, three-headed dogs, deadly plants, moving trees, large spiders — only a matter of time before a basilisk and dementors show up, really," Iris said.

"M-m-my goodness!" Bagman stuttered in his loud voice. "Did you see — was I the only — you all just saw this, right? Absolute chaos! Miss Potter is definitely entertaining! Iris Potter wins another fifteen points, leaving her with a total of thirty-five! I must say, I —"

Iris ignored the rest. She was slowly transfiguring the rubble from the bridge into a wooden raft. She was just about to hop on it when she came to the conclusion that she might find a dangerous creature or two inside the water itself. She spent another minute improving her raft, enlarging it, building up walls, reinforcing everything she could. It was shoddy work, if she was honest with herself, but it would do.

She pushed the wooden boat into the river and jumped in. The boat was swept down the river instantly by the fast currents.

It was as she was travelling down the river when the question, ' _Where had the griffin gone_?' was answered. This time, Iris had her wand. It was a simple, " _Arietes Augue_ ," and the griffin was hit with the full force of the spell. It spiraled down into the water.

"Not so challenging now, are you?" Iris muttered irritably as the griffin was swept up by the currents. Its struggle slowed it down, and Iris's boat was able to be pulled much quicker along the river.

Iris was exhausted by this point. She used the trip down the river as time to rest. It didn't last very long, because soon Bagman's booming voice interrupted her.

"Miss Potter is coming upon the fourth sector now. Will her boat hold?"

Iris laughed quietly. Bagman wasn't the smartest, was he? He had practically just confirmed that the fourth sector would hold an underwater creature. Iris sat up in her boat and realized she wasn't sure how she was going to stop the current from carrying her into the small lake that she could now see further down. She knew there were spells to freeze water, but she hadn't learned any strong enough to freeze an entire river, much less one with strong waters. She wasn't the best at conjuration either, so shooting a rope to pull herself to —

She nearly slapped herself. She was being incredibly stupid. She didn't need to conjure any.

She broke off a piece of the boat's wooden wall and began transfiguring it into rope, muttering the incantation under her breath as she did so. When she thought the rope was long enough, she tied one end to the newly transfigured hook in the center of the boat, and then Summoned a rock from the water below. She quickly molded it to resemble a treble hook with a few more muttered spells, tied it to the rope, and used a Banishing Charm on the hook.

It flew from her boat and landed in a fallen tree, easily hooking onto one of the branches. The boat was easily brought to the lakeshore with Iris tugging on the rope. She hopped out and began to walk around the lake, keeping a careful distance from the water as she did so. She noticed the small island in the center of the lake, and she used the Wind Charm to disturb the water, hoping to see what was under.

She wasn't disappointed.

A large serpentine head rose from the water, horned, black, and with a jewel centered on its forehead. It rose with its scaly neck until it towered over Iris, whose eyebrows shot to her hairline. They went so far as to get a horned serpent? She was sure she had read that they weren't native to the waters of the United Kingdom.

" _I suppose you'll do for a basilisk,"_ Iris said amusedly.

" _I am not a basilisk,"_ the serpent hissed.

" _That's good,"_ Iris said in Parseltongue, unfazed. This might have also been what Dumbledore was talking about in regards to Parseltongue being useful. _"Because if you were, I'd have to kill you. What say you give me a ride to that isle there?"_

The serpent waited a moment before replying. _"You speak my tongue. I've never met a human that did, though I had always wondered what it would be like."_

"Er — seems Miss Potter is speaking to the serpent _,"_ Bagman said uneasily. Iris had to hold back the sigh of frustration at Bagman's behavior.

" _Well, here I am, one tired, pissed off, wand-wielding speaker of serpents."_ Iris began pacing nearer to the water, daring the serpent to try something, almost hoping. Vehemently, she hissed out, _"I've fought wizards capable of turning your lake into a sea of fire. I've slain basilisks hungry enough to swallow you whole. I've battled trolls large enough to have you for dinner."_

Iris paused.

" _I've also spent hours conversing with a sphinx. I've been protected by centaurs. I've had aid in the form of not one, but two phoenixes. I've a pet dragon in my pocket right now."_ Iris stopped pacing, and she levelled her stare at the serpent, the question hanging in the air, unspoken.

The serpent lowered itself into the water, only its head still hovering in the chilly air. Iris was sure she could see something in its eyes, a challenge almost, and she felt she knew what was going to happen next —

The serpent lunged at Iris, its mouth closed however, and she forced herself to stand still, to not flinch. The crowd above gasped, but the serpent stopped feet from her face. Iris raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

" _I believe,"_ the serpent said, pausing for a moment, almost dramatically, _"that I'd like to belong to your second category."_

Iris smiled. _"Do me a favour then, and take me to the isle in the center._ "

" _Only if you truly prove you are capable of being a challenge._ "

" _Oh?_ " Iris said, " _and how would I do that?_ "

" _Your kind will likely take me back to my confinement tomorrow, a place where I do not have much, where I cannot feel free enough._ "

" _You want me to get you to the bloody ocean? There's no way —_ "

" _You misunderstand me,"_ the serpent said. " _There is another lake here, is there not?_ "

" _How do you know?_ "

" _I can sense it. I want something of yours, something you value, so I know I can trust you. If you accept and don't follow through, I will keep it."_

Iris nodded. It was a reasonable request. She had no idea on how she would get past this creature otherwise. It would easily tear apart any boat. It would easily tear _her_ apart. She didn't know any spells to turn the water into ice, not at this size anyway. She wondered if…

" _Accio Firebolt_ ," she said, pointing her wand casually at where Hogwarts would be, as she couldn't see it from where she was. She wasn't sure if it would work, at least not at this distance. Even up at the stadium, where the dragon would be, it would have to take the utmost concentration. Maybe if she spent a little more time practicing the Summoning Charm instead of so much time on the shield for dragonfire…

Iris ignored the serpent's questions about what she was doing as she listened for the rushing sound of her Firebolt speeding towards her.

"Miss Potter," Bagman's voice came, "the first five sectors have been charmed to not allow any Summoning Charms to bring in anything from outside of the arena."

Iris cursed, then turned to the serpent. She dug out Inigo from her pocket. " _This is the pet dragon I spoke of before. If I leave him with you, will it be enough? Will you keep him safe until I return for you in the night? Inigo, can you stay with… this serpent —"_

" _Nerissa_ ," the serpent said silkily.

" _Will you stay with Nerissa here for a couple of hours?_ "

Inigo let out an angry, but adorable small roar.

" _Fine, you can stay with me. Come, let's go battle a giant dragon large enough to swallow a thousand of you as an appetizer,_ " Iris hissed out, starting to feel more irritated.

Inigo took one look at Iris before leaping out of her hands and slowly gliding to Nerissa's head, landing on top of her. Nerissa looked up at the dragon, and she almost looked amused before she slid close to the shore to let Iris climb on her back.

Iris did so, and a few moments later, she was standing on the isle in the center of the lake. " _I'll come before sunset… hopefully."_

" _See that you do, Vanquisher of Dark Wizards, Slayer of Basilisks, Battler of Trolls —"_

" _Really_ _?"_

"— _Converser of Sphinxes, The One Dependent of Centaurs, Companion of Phoenixes, and Pet Dragon Handler._ "

" _Are you done_ _?_ " Iris asked impatiently.

" _You're the one who insisted on being dramatic with your accomplishments,_ " Nerissa said, and she flicked her tail at the water, drenching Iris completely, before swimming away, Inigo lying on her head.

Muttering to herself, Iris looked to the pedestal in the center of the isle, and saw that it had a small, black, torn cloak on it. "And this is where we complete the set. Dementors."

She touched the cloak _—_ there was a tug from behind her navel — and she was plucked away from the isle.

She felt the cold settling deep within her bones before she even hit the ground.

Her chest was the first part to hit the ground. All of her breath suddenly vanished.

She gasped, but no air came. She lifted her wand, but couldn't breathe the words.

" _Eh_ — _Expec_ —" But the words died on her lips. Why now? Why did magical travel have to do this to her, especially now?

Black cloaks swirled around her. A flying Snitch, colored differently, floated above it all. Withered hands reached down for her. Surely they weren't going to Kiss her? They must have told them not to go that far, but Dumbledore had once told her dementors won't listen. Maybe —

 _She heard a man's voice, yelling at his wife to take her and go, to disappear. There was a woman begging, and a high-pitched laughter too. It was too vague, too blurry to make it all out, but she saw flowing red hair, a cloaked man with red eyes, and death_ —

 _She was in a torch-lit room now, and a man with a turban flicked his wand at her. She lifted from the ground and her shoulder hit a wall, hard, and she was sure something has cracked beneath her skin. Quirrell flicked his wand again, and again she flew through the air. Again, and again he did it, until she could barely keep herself upright. Everything hurt. He was coming closer now. He was reaching for her. He was screaming now. The pieces fell together and she used the last of her strength to jump at him. She was watching a man turn to ash in front of her, and she heard her name now, and the silver beard swung in front of her pale, pained face —_

 _A silent tear rolled down her cheek. Her hand was wrapped around Hermione's stony one. She shouldn't have told Hermione she'd follow her from the library in just a minute. She should have stayed. She remembered walking out of the library only to find Hermione's stony body. She wrapped her hand around Hermione's tighter now, and she felt something, a piece of parchment —_

 _Hermione had been right. She should have studied more. Much more. She should have learned more. She was stuck repeating the same spells, over and over, as the acromantulas came down upon her and Ron. She couldn't believe this was how she was to die, and she had led Ron here too, a place where his worst fear scuttled after him, their numbers in the dozens. There was some kind of growl, a bright flash of light — no, two lights, a pained squeal as an acromantula flew by her, and then the car that had flew to Hogwarts in was —_

 _White-hot flames was flicking at her insides. No, it was anger. How dare he come back here, to her home? How dare Voldemort show his face here again? She dodged the basilisk again. How dare this oversized worm hurt Hermione? It didn't matter that Hermione would be fine soon, that she wasn't really hurt — all that mattered was that these two deserved to die for the suffering they put people through. The basilisk lunged again, and then it was dead, and she — she was dying too. Her veins blackened, she made her way to Ginny, slowly, barely holding herself together. She was waking now, and maybe this was her end, maybe her story stopped here, but Ginny was safe, and her family would be —_

 _No, there was Hagrid now. He was telling her she was a witch, and she felt offended that he thought so. Was she really that ugly? Surely not, the giant must be joking. But he was not, and her world changed forever_ —

 _She was making her first friend on a train. A red-haired boy. Her very first friend, outside of Hagrid and Hedwig. The compartment door slid open_ —

 _She had awoken from her sleep, had opened the doors to the infirmary, and Hermione Granger flew into her arms, eyes full of tears. She saw Ron behind her, and he beamed at her. Everything was okay. All was_ —

 _Hermione Granger stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, her eyes scanning all the heads that had turned to look at her. Iris was on her feet before she knew what she was doing, and now she was sprinting — she knocked both herself and Hermione over in her hug. Ron laughed behind her and she was sure she'd burst with happiness_ —

 _And now she was in Slytherin's Chambers, which was usually chilly, but the roaring fire made it all nice and comfy. Hermione was reading a book, and she looked healthier than ever. There was no worry around her eyes like there had been after her best friend's name had been selected by the Goblet of Fire._

 _Ron sat in a chair playing chess with Ginny; the twins sat together experimenting on each other; Aberforth and Albus Dumbledore sat a table, discussing something that she could not hear, but it was a friendly discussion; Sirius was curled up on her feet, warming them, as Padfoot; Fleur Delacour's hands ran through her hair, and she closed her eyes to the touch._

Her eyes snapped open. That one had not been real, but it was enough.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," Iris whispered with the little oxygen she had, and the silvery doe burst from her wand in an explosion of light and happiness. The withered hands retreated, their owners making a strangled, dying rasping sound, and a great, dark weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

Her senses came back to her. And though a bit embarrassed about her own shallowness concerning Fleur, she pushed more into the Patronus and the doe grew brighter, the dementors fleeing further. She barely heard Bagman's shouts of incredulity. He was being dramatic; he had seen her produce one before.

She was already running. She had hardly taken in her surroundings, but now she could see she was definitely in an abandoned building. She wouldn't have been surprised if this was where the dementors lived, what with the utter darkness of the place, the feeling of decay and death, the sense of suffocating it gave her even with her Patronus protecting her.

She ran.

The doe gave off light as it ran forward, commanded by Iris to guide her. She was in a very long hallway, and the walls which had started far apart seemed to be closing in around her.

She ran faster.

The walls were closing in on around her. The hall was getting thinner. The floor was on a slope downwards. She felt dizzy.

She still ran, as fast as her worn legs could carry her.

The doe stopped then. It was a dead end. Iris nearly cursed herself for wasting so much time — how much time had she even spent lying on the ground back there? Likely more than a minute, surely. But then she saw a small leather strip on a small table by the wall, with the engraving, ' _The Final Sector_.'

She snatched it and quickly said the words. She felt her link to her Patronus vanish, and before the dementors could descend on her again, she did the same.

* * *

 **The Stands**

"Incredible! Miss Potter is the first champion to get past the dementors in under a minute, the only to not lose points in the fifth sector! Wonderful!" Bagman exclaimed happily. Iris Potter had a total of fifty points now! He didn't care if she lost both her legs going up against the dragon, he'd be giving her full marks. He grinned obnoxiously at the goblins. They flashed their pointy teeth at him.

Bagman had to stop himself from jumping up and down in his seat. People had told him he was a fool for betting so much on Iris, that the rumors of her achievements were just that: rumors. Well, they would be in for quite the surprise, wouldn't they?

Cassius Warrington tilted his head at the screen, only slightly, curiously. He had figured that with so many rumors going around the school, at the end of every year, with Potter being in the infirmary consistently, that at least _one_ of the rumors had to be true. One might think that she was used to fighting for her life. Perhaps Rita Skeeter was telling the truth for once. He had to admit that she had far more resourcefulness than he had expected. Maybe the sorting hat did want Potter in Slytherin.

Viktor Krum wasn't all that upset at Potter, but he had felt a twisted sense of satisfaction in denying her apology. That fall down the stairs had _really_ hurt. He knew that the mild dislike between the two could escalate if he wasn't careful. He knew that if she beat his score, he'd be more than a little bitter. He knew that with the fifty points she had now, she was likely to beat his score unless she gave up the rest of the task. Maybe dragons would be her downfall.

Fleur had scowled when the crowd had begun murmuring again as Iris spoke to the horned serpent. She looked over to Rita Skeeter and saw her scribbling away with an almost maniacal look in her eyes. Fleur looked on with disgust. Iris was likely to face a lot of bigotry for this. And then Iris had overcome the dementors with relative ease.

That had stung more than a little. She tried to push her hurt pride aside, but she couldn't. She had been raised to be prideful, and it was only her exasperation with the world, when she had decided she was done worrying about silly things, that stopped her from becoming a haughty, conceited _epitome of a spoiled little bitch_ , like Iris had said; not that she hadn't been exactly that at times.

* * *

 **The Final Sector**

Iris fell onto the ground, but thankfully did not lose her breath this time. She got up instantly, not wanting to be fried by a dragon. She was in another tent now. It wasn't as big but it was still a nice size. There was no Snitch in sight.

"Miss Potter, please step out into the arena when you feel you are ready."

Iris sure wasn't going to wait. She took out her small vial of firewhisky, uncorked it, and drank it all at once. It was the same as before. Her fears washed away and she felt ready. Nothing could stop her. She hadn't lost a single point so far. She'd get full marks here too, surely. A full hundred out of hundred points. What could she do to get that?

Fight the dragon with her bare hands, naturally.

No, no, that would be too much. Iris laughed to herself. If firewhisky made her think this way all the time, she'd likely become an alcoholic soon.

The dangerous thoughts died out fairly quickly, but the calmed nerves remained. She was ready to end this. She stepped through the exit of the tent.

In front of her, a few hundred feet away from her, was the Hungarian Horntail. Blacker than the night sky, and with spikes protruding from its tail, its head, and many other places. The crowd around her cheered. The stadium was enormous. Hundreds, if not thousands, were here. And the arena was large enough so that none of a dragon's fire would be able to reach the audience, what with the dragon being shackled down. That might make things easier.

The walls to the enclosure had many torches on them, but the light didn't even get close to helping her see the entire enclosure clearly. Still, it was enough, she supposed.

A Snitch appeared next to her. Iris looked up and saw two large screens above the two longest sides of the stadium, and she saw herself from the Snitch's perspective. It was a bit bizarre.

Iris walked slowly to the dragon. All her plans, plan A, plan B, plan C, plan D, all of them seemed to vanish from her thoughts as she stared at this enormous creature. She was right; before, when she thought of how much more terrifying it would look when she was so close to it, she was definitely right.

But enough about that. She had a job to do here. Hundreds were watching her. They wouldn't be able to say anything negative about her after this —

But first, she'd try something.

" _Hey there!_ " Iris hissed loudly in Parseltongue. The dragon's eyes narrowed. " _Say, you mind if I have that golden egg there? You see, it's not actually yours. These fools, these humans, they only want to watch the two of us battle for entertainment. I'd rather not give it to them. The golden egg is fake. Don't play to their demands. Let us show them we are not under their control."_

Iris had to jump backwards as a quick stream of dragonfire came to stop just feet from her. The fire illuminated the dark arena.

"There's no need to curse at me," Iris joked, and the dragon breathed more fire at her, but it couldn't reach her. "Right then. _Accio Firebolt! Accio Fire Protection Potion! Accio Hermione's Runic Shield!_ " It took the utmost concentration, but she could feel the spell working. She moved on, keeping the Summoning Charm at the back of her mind.

Abandoning any thoughts of embarrassment at what could make her happy, she visualized: _Fleur's fingers were combing her hair, and her head was on Fleur's lap. Hermione sat by, and_ —

That was enough. Iris waved her wand in a small, loose circle, and said, " _Expecto Patronum!_ " Her silver doe burst from her wand once more, ready to do what Iris needed. She mentally commanded it to stick by her until she was ready for it to be of use. She considered Summoning her cloak, but she wasn't sure if it would survive against a dragon's fire. She didn't feel right risking something of her father's.

She heard the rushing sound of something travelling through the wind, and she looked up to see her three objects speeding towards her. The broom came to rest next to her in midair; the potion flew into her hand; the large circular shield impaled itself into the ground, directly where Iris had been standing a moment before — and here she was, thinking she had completely mastered the Summoning Charm.

Iris opened the potion, ignoring Bagman's excited shouts, and drank it all. It was almost instant: she felt as though she had swallowed the coldest water imaginable. Her very veins felt like they had turned to ice for just a moment. Iris shook the effects off, and grabbed the shield, pulling hard to remove it from the ground.

"Is Miss Potter going to use a _shield_ against a dragon?!" Bagman exclaimed wildly. Iris felt her Patronus diminishing slowly, and she forced Bagman's voice out of her head, and filled it with happy thoughts instead. She put her attention back to the shield.

It was an iron, circular shield, one with gold and silver inlays. It was absolutely saturated with magic, and Iris could feel it as she slapped the handle-side to her back; the runic Sticking Charm Professor Babbling had applied caused the shield to instantly stick. Professor Babbling had applied much more than Sticking Charms as well, as requested by Hermione, because even Hermione was beat in regards to charming a shield to stop a dragon's hit.

Unfortunately, Professor Babbling had limited time in her work, leaving the shield only capable of taking a single physical blow from something with the strength of a dragon. Even with Professor Babbling's limited work on it, Iris could see the many complicated runes spread across the surface of the shield.

The shield wouldn't simply _not break_ , but it would absorb a heavy blow, and push the force into the outer segments of the shield, causing those parts to break off forcefully. Iris herself wouldn't absorb the hit, at least not much. The idea had come to her when she thought back to the basilisk fight. She had used a physical object to defeat it there, so if the Dragonfire Shield Charm did not work, she'd have a physical object here to help her too. It wasn't something most wizards would have thought of, using such Muggle methods.

And having fought the cockatrice with spears, she was much less opposed to using a shield now than she was before the task started.

Up in the stands, Professor Babbling raised her eyebrows and looked towards Hermione, who refused to meet her eyes.

The potion was working; the shield was on her back, ready to take a hit from the dragon if needed; and Iris was now on her broom, ready to outfly a dragon. She pointed her wand at her hair, said, " _Crinis Texo_ ," and her hair began braiding itself. A moment later, she had one long black braid trailing down her back. She tucked it beneath the shield.

 _Turn the broom into a sword and I'd look almost like a viking_ , Iris thought to herself.

"By the gods! A shield and a broom! This might be the most interesting one yet!" Bagman said, and to Iris's surprise, the crowd cheered very loudly. But perhaps some of the cheers were simply because they were hoping she'd soon be dragon food.

She kicked her feet off the ground and forced her broom upwards. She was up in the air, at least fifty feet up, the wind sweeping through air, the dragon still large, and then she was a hundred feet in the air. Her nerves settled as the feeling of complete freedom washed over her. This wasn't quite like another Quidditch game, but it was close enough.

She looked down at the ground below and saw her Patronus was still there. It was just a small thought, but with it, the doe ran into the air and directly at the dragon's head. Iris dived downwards. Her hair came from under the shield, trailing in the air behind her as she raced towards the egg.

The dragon went to bite at the Patronus.

Iris was getting close now. Was she going to grab the egg this quickly? Was it to be this easy? She flattened herself on her broom. She'd have to slow down before she reached the egg, to not break all her fingers, but —

She swerved suddenly as the dragon's spiked tail nearly turned her to mush. The tail missed her by mere feet. She turned on her broom and was forced to pull back instantly as the enormous jaws nearly bit her in half. The crowd screamed.

Iris had misjudged how far up the dragon could reach.

The Patronus was still attempting to get its attention, but it was no longer working. The Hungarian Horntail was ignoring it now. Iris let go of the mental focus for it, and the doe vanished.

Iris took a deep breath and sped around the dragon, forcing it whirl around completely, then she took a sharp turn and dived again, this time hoping she could fly right by the side of the dragon. A burst of hot fire filled the space she was in mere milliseconds before — but now she was speeding amongst its neck, ducking under its wing, and the tail was coming up again — she dodged it on her broom successfully.

The egg was right there.

She reached her hand out — fire engulfed the area where the eggs lay — Iris took one of the sharpest turns she had ever taken in her life — she felt her muscles tighten painfully as the broom turned. She was forced to, otherwise she would have flown directly into the fire. Even a quick fly-through would have likely hurt and maybe even damaged her skin. It wasn't until after that she realized it likely wouldn't, not with the potion she had drank.

She turned around on her broom again, foolishly thinking she was far enough — but she wasn't. She only had a second to attempt to shoot out of the way of another swipe from the tail. An unspiked part of the tail slammed into her, her shield, and her broom. She desperately clutched her broom as the force of the hit sent her flying back, and she faintly heard the crowd scream in terror over the rush of wind.

She gripped the broom and attempted to slow herself down, but it wasn't working as it should —

Something hard slammed into her back — or did she slam into it? She slid down the wall of the enclosure, clutching the broom and trying to get back on it. But again, something wasn't right. Iris opened her eyes fully and looked down. It was with a pang of guilt, sorrow, and anger that Iris saw her precious Firebolt was snapped in the middle, barely held together with the smallest piece of wood.

She slid the rest of the way down the enclosure's wall, staring in anguish at the broom as it slowed her descent down. The Hungarian Horntail's bellow brought her out of her numb disconnection of what she was seeing. Her eyes snapped to the dragon, and she felt an anger she hadn't felt in a long time, not since she had confronted Sirius in the shrieking shack all those months ago.

She leapt to her feet, ignoring the aching in her side. " _Vexo_ _Oculorum!_ " Iris roared, pointing her wand at the dragon's eyes. She was only going to use one. Bagman had told them they weren't to smash any of the eggs, and a completely blind dragon just wouldn't do.

The spell hit the dragon in its left eye and it roared in anger as the eye was swelled shut. Iris was already running towards it by that point. Distantly, she heard the crowd and Bagman panicking, and she was sure Hermione's scream was in there somewhere.

She didn't care. She was finishing this task right now.

The dragon's head pulled back slightly, and its underside glowed red. Iris knew what was coming, and fear pierced her heart, making her forget all about her broken Firebolt. There was simply no chance of her dodging this, especially without her broom, especially if the dragon could move its head as it spewed flames, especially with how close she was.

The crowd screamed again as they realized what was to happen.

In the crowds, Hermione's cheeks were bleeding profusely as she dug her fingernails into them, as she watched the dragon get ready to kill her best friend. Ron grasped her wrist tightly as he too, wide-eyed, watched.

Fleur was clenching her teeth together painfully. Iris had nowhere to go. She wanted to scream at the dragon handlers to go and take care of the dragon.

Iris's heart pumped hard. The sound vanished. The thousand faces blurred from her view until they too vanished. It was only the dragon now. Was this it? When she had thought that this was the day she'd die, could she have been right? She couldn't even hear her own words. She didn't see her wand make two spiraling circles. The fear of dying this way clenched at her heart. Her last thoughts were of her friends, and the fear was overcome with a warmth, and she was sure it was the fire, engulfing her, dissolving her.

But the dragon was no longer in front of her. The fire that had been coming for her was gone, replaced by a brilliant aqua green shield, and the fire behind it flowed and billowed to the sides of the shield.

Sweat poured heavily down her face.

She expected the fire to die down quickly, but the pressure only increased. The dragon must have realized it didn't have her, or that there was a strong resistance — could dragons even do that?

It didn't matter.

The shield expanded until the feeling of heat wasn't as pronounced, until she could see more of the ground in front of her. The sound was still gone, but that was good. Iris didn't need it.

She felt the pressure increase again, and she too increased the amount of mental focus she was putting into this spell, and then her shield began pushing back. Iris let her amazement show for a second — her shield faltered — and she focused once more, bringing the shield back to its full strength.

Sweat began pouring down her face again, but not from the fire's proximity, but rather from the amount of work Iris was putting into this spell. She had never, not even with the dementors at the lake, put this much focus, this much strength, this much of her will into a spell. Not ever before.

The shield was now pushing further, and Iris could see the stands in her peripheral view again.

And then her wand kicked, recoiled, and her shield was no longer a simple shield, but a thick torrent of magic shooting from her wand, exploding once it entered the fire, keeping the flames at bay. Iris wasn't sure how she was doing it, but now wasn't the time to think about it — she was willing the spell do what _she_ wanted, not what the creator intended, and that was enough for her.

She watched as the aqua green spell continued to pour out from her wand, almost like a powerful Water-Making Charm, but with a vapor-like substance to it. The fire and the spell met in midair and aqua green clashed against deep red, each fluid-like cloud of mass battling the other for dominance —

The fire stopped suddenly, and the dragon took a large step back to examine the scene. It was silent, unmoving, just as the crowd was.

Iris stood in front of the dragon, the edges of her clothing burning only slightly, like embers. But she was unharmed. Not even Bagman spoke, and the dragon handlers who were rushing into the arena began withdrawing.

Iris took a deep, steadying breath. This was something she wouldn't even bother processing now. She'd think over what just happened later.

She pulled her shield from her back and into her left hand, and began running. She sent a stream of fire into the dragon's head, so it wouldn't use a more precise attack such as its claws or mouth. Just as she thought, the dragon recoiled from the flames, and instead swept its tail among the ground.

She saw it coming slowly, as though time itself was slowing itself. She reached her left hand to her right shoulder, preparing to strike against the dragon's tail with her shield. It was insane, and she knew she'd have Hermione lose her mind at her after, but it was too late to turn back now.

The tail was destroying everything in its path as it swept the ground to her left, and Iris went to bash it with the shield — she smashed the shield against the tail as it finally reached her — the two collided — Iris felt her left arm _snap_ and the terrible pain that came with it. The shield hadn't held it back completely, but Iris stood her ground for the most part; her feet dragged against the ground slightly, and she faltered in her run.

The shield's outer parts broke off forcefully, and several of its pieces flew directly into the dragon's tail, which had been stopped completely by the shield. The dragon howled with pain as the shield's fractured parts dug deep past its scales. It howled with greater pain as the hexagram shield that was leftover was Banished into its tail too.

Iris was already running again. She ignored the blinding pain in her arm and sprinted on. The dragon, in its confused attempt to find Iris with the pain in its tail, stomped around — and Iris was forced to dodge a large claw which nearly sliced her in two.

She sprinted past the dragon's feet, seeing the tail coming for her again, and she knew the edge would hit her. She jumped as high as she could, making herself parallel with the ground — it was no good.

One of the spikes from the dragon sliced through a part of her back, through her right shoulder blade. Iris let out a small yelp of pain as she slid across the rocky floor, rolling uncontrollably, with the small, sharp rocks embedding themselves in her skin, but she immediately shot to her feet.

The adrenaline was pumping through her veins. Her vision was sharper than it ever was before. Everything irrelevant, unnecessary, not completely life-threatening was filtered out.

Iris aimed her wand over her shoulder — or tried to, but the wound on her back was too painful to let her move her right arm — and her broken left arm was no good either. Instead, Iris pointed her wand forwards, shouted, " _Fumos!_ " and twitched her wand from side to side. Gray smoke began filling the air in front of her, and she jumped right into it, hearing the area behind her get crushed by the dragon's tail. She continued to let the smoke come out, now with her wand held loosely to the side.

Then she tripped.

She was in the nest. She plucked the golden egg with both hands, trying her best to ignore the excruciating pain she was feeling now, and ran as if Voldemort himself was chasing her.

The crowd burst into cheers as Iris emerged from the smoke with the golden egg in her hands. The dragon handles immediately all sent stunners into the dragon, and it collapsed on the ground with a heavy thud, and that was it.

Iris collapsed on the ground near a tent in exhaustion. She only vaguely noticed Madam Pomfrey exit the tent and levitate her inside, and to a bed. She heard Bagman shouting about her time in getting the egg, the quickest apparently.

"Goodness me! _Goodness me!_ You foolish girl! I don't know whether to scold you or compliment you on somehow surviving the impossible again!" Madam Pomfrey said as she began healing Iris, who groaned in pain as she was pushed to a sitting position.

Iris felt her bone in her left arm snap into place and heal. Madam Pomfrey pulled out some purple potion and began applying it to her back, and with a tap of the nurse's wand, Iris felt the cut on her back seal up. Madam Pomfrey looked at her left thigh and began casting spells there too. Somewhere in Iris's foggy mind, she hoped she'd be able to remove those scars. But she was too exhausted, too shocked that she had really done it to really bother asking. The bruises and cuts that ached and stung everywhere began to heal as well.

It was amazing, Iris thought, what magic could do. She was in agonizing pain just moments ago, and now she only felt a bit stiff and achy.

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Two puncture wounds, four separate cuts, two of them very deep, numerous internal injuries, two broken bones, even more numerous small cuts, how you do it is beyond me, Potter."

Iris grinned feebly. "Simple, really, I —"

"No, no sarcasm now — sit down! Stop trying to move!"

"You're not going to let me finish my joke?"

"There," Madam Pomfrey said, ignoring her. "I'm afraid I can't remove any of the scars," she said, seeing Iris look down at her thigh with a look of distaste. Madam Pomfrey repaired what she could of Iris's clothes, but there was still a large hole on her thigh, exposing her skin, and the small bits the dragon had burned off were gone for good. It was a shame. Iris had liked how she looked in these clothes — when they didn't look as though they'd gone through several battles, that is.

Iris closed her eyes. "Is my back bad? The scar, I mean."

"No, no, it's not… bad, necessarily. It was just deep. I couldn't remove the scar with my wand. It was from a dragon after all. It's not terrible though, not like — well —"

"My leg?"

"Well, yes," Madam Pomfrey said. "We can get any of them removed later, if you wish, but it'll require a special potion, one students unfortunately have to pay for, given how expensive —"

"Forget it," Iris interrupted. "I don't care. I'm just glad I'm alive." And she was, and a bit agitated that she had been forced to go through all of that, lest her magic be ripped from her body.

Professor McGonagall burst through the mouth of the tent, and there were three people behind her. Moody, Rita Skeeter, and Hagrid.

"Excellent, Potter!" McGonagall said, smiling with pride. "Poppy, is she alright?"

"Very impressive, Potter," Moody said while Pomfrey and McGonagall talked. "That kind of pain tolerance, that will to keep going, you'd make for a fine Auror, lassie."

Iris stared up at his grizzled face. "Are scarred are the rest of the Aurors?"

Moody chuckled. "You're already halfway there from what I can see. Three scars right there, see?" he said.

"These?" Iris said, looking down at the three scars on her thigh. "Let's see. Three on my left thigh, one on my right ankle, one on my right arm, two on my left shoulder, one on my back, one on my forehead — oh yes, I'd _love_ to become an Auror."

Moody looked unimpressed. "Don't be a child, your looks will fade one day anyway."

"I just battled a dragon. I'll be whatever the hell I want, Frankenstein."

"Y'know," Moody said, scratching his chin, "Frankenstein was the monster's creator, not the monster itself."

" _Y'know_ , I don't really care."

Moody grinned at her, and she grinned back. "Come on, lass, we've got to get your scores."

"Good job, Iris!" Hagrid said, patting her on the back, directly where the dragon's tail had swiped her. Iris winced. "I knew yer could do it! Wha' did I say, eh? Agains' the wors' dragon of 'em all, and yeh handled her better than the res' of 'em." He beamed down at her. Iris patted his elbow and thanked him.

"Iris!" came a familiar voice from behind her. Iris turned around and saw Rita Skeeter there, standing and smiling. "Can I ask you a question?

"Apparently."

"Is that a yes? I was wondering if I could ask a few actually — or a quote would do just fine, what do you —"

"You want a quote? Sure. How about this? _Potter says no_."

And she walked out of the tent, picking up her golden egg from a table on the way out.

"Maybe you shouldn't be an Auror," Moody said as he hobbled out of the tent with Iris, who raised an eyebrow in silent question. "That kind of sarcasm would never make it through Auror training, and I think you'd shrivel up and die without your sarcasm."

"Oh, ha, ha. If you asked me that a month ago, I'd seriously consider it. But I'm already sick of all the adrenaline from the last month alone. By the end of the year, even if Voldemort hasn't reappeared for our end of year fight, I'll be taking a holiday."

Moody shrugged, gave her a pat on the back and as he turned to leave her, he said, "Wait here for your scores. Y'know, there is this one lass whose sarcasm survived Auror training. You two should meet. Nymphadora Tonks is her name."

And he walked unsteadily away, leaving Iris with a thoughtful expression on her face. Nymphadora Tonks. Sarcastic, and a Metamorphmagus too as Iris remembered Hermione telling her.

"That's a ridiculous name!" Iris shouted to Moody's back.

"Don't let her hear you say that… or her name at all!"

Iris was now in the arena again (the dragon was gone) and was standing near the tent she had walked out of, looking up the stands where the judges sat.

"We'll be getting Miss Potter's score in just a moment!" Bagman said from his chair, which was draped in gold like the other four seats. And then, from her right, Iris saw Hermione and Ron making their way to her. Ron was holding her broken Firebolt, gazing down at it sadly.

"Iris!" Hermione said as she hugged Iris tightly. "Oh, sorry, are you still hurting? You must have a lot of internal injuries! Did Madam Pomfrey clear you? Should you even be out here?"

"No, I'm not; I did, but not anymore; yes, she cleared me; and yes, I'm supposed to be out here," Iris said.

Ron stared at her, his face very pale. "Bloody hell, Iris. We — we thought were going to lose you there."

"I thought the cockatrice — the griffin nearly — and then the troll began running at you and I knew — then the dragon was ready —" Hermione tried to say, but she burst into tears and flung herself at Iris again.

"Blimey Hermione, let her breathe," Ron said, smiling faintly. He still hadn't regained the color in his face.

"I — I just don't know what they were thinking! I don't know what _you_ were thinking! That's not what the shield was for! It was only meant to be a safety precaution, not to be used to smack a dragon!" Hermione said very fast, pulling away from Iris.

"Yeah, but it worked, didn't it?" Ron said. "And it was brilliant. She slapped a dragon's tail away, Hermione!"

"And broke my arm in the process," Iris muttered as the two began bickering.

"Dragons themselves was enough! It's no wonder so many have died in this tournament before!" Hermione went on.

"It's done now, Hermione," Iris said. "I'm okay."

"Now you're okay!" Hermione said. "But this is just the first task! What if it gets harder from now on out?"

"I doubt it," said Ron, rubbing his chin. "The other champions had a lot of trouble too. You dealt with the dragon the quickest, Iris, so if you still nearly died, I doubt they'll increase the difficulty."

"We'll talk later, they're about to give the scores out," Iris said, pointing out Bagman.

"And now we're going to get Miss Potter's scores!" Bagman said. "Miss Potter received a full fifty points from the other sectors. To avoid last place, she only needs nine total points."

Krum frowned at Bagman from his spot in the stands. Even he, though, had to admit she had done well, better than him even.

"Madame Maxime, if you will," Bagman said.

Madame Maxime pointed her wand upwards and a silver ribbon shot from it, forming into a large figure eight. The Gryffindors cheered very loudly, but Iris noticed the other houses' cheering wasn't as strong.

"An eight? What's she playing at? She hates me!" Iris exclaimed.

"She gave Fleur a nine," Hermione said.

"She should have given a ten," Ron said. "You were easily the best, Iris. Warrington did a bunch of Transfiguration and used a lot of smoke, much more than you did in the end there. Though, the dragon just blew most of it away. It took him a couple of tries to finally get his egg. He transfigured nearly all of the rocks in the arena by that point."

Barty Crouch came next. He pointed his wand upwards and shot a number ten in the air. The crowd nearly exploded in sound.

"But — but I got hurt?" Iris said, confused.

"Blimey, I didn't expect that," said Ron. "He didn't give anything higher than an eight for the rest. You did do it the fastest though, and that shield thing you did was amazing — both the physical shield and that spell."

"What did Krum do to get such a low score?" Iris asked.

"He killed a hippogriff," Hermione said, disapprovingly. "I think it was by accident, but he lost all the points there and had ten points removed from his final score. So he really lose twenty points there. If he hadn't killed it, he'd have seventy eight points."

Dumbledore threw a number nine into the air. The majority of the crowd cheered loudly again. Iris saw the Weasley twins pretend to faint from up in the stands.

"That's twenty-eight points already, Iris! You're definitely going to beat Cassius Warrington too!" Hermione shouted happily.

"The twins were already telling us how they were going to throw a giant party after this, but after seeing these scores so far, we'll be lucky if the Gryffindor tower remains standing in the morning," Ron said.

Karkaroff shot a seven into the air.

Ron's eyebrows shot nearly to his hairline. "He gave a ten to Krum but a six to both Warrington and Fleur. You must've impressed him."

"Of course she impressed him! Did you hear the crowd when she pushed that fire back?" Hermione said.

"The crowd wasn't making any sound at all —"

"Exactly! Iris, how did you do that?"

Iris shrugged. "Dunno."

Hermione and Ron both bit back their laughter at Iris's uncaring attitude concerning doing the impossible.

Bagman shot up a number ten into the air, and the crowd definitely exploded this time.

"That's a total of forty-four points!" Hermione shrieked. "You beat everyone, Iris, you beat everyone!" Hermione hugged Iris again and began jumping up and down. Ron stared at her in shock and excitement.

A chant from the Gryffindors ascended from the crowd: " _Potter! Potter! Potter!"_

Iris smiled radiantly. She had actually done it. She had come in first place. She looked over to the large Slytherin group and was pleased to see many of them looking shocked and devastated, especially Malfoy.

Ron must have seen what she was looking at for he chuckled and said, "Malfoy was taking bets you'd end up in last place. I imagine he owes quite a lot of people money since you're in first place now."

"Suppose I should go give them this egg," Iris said, looking down at her golden egg.

Hermione frowned. "Iris, they don't get it back. It's yours now. You get to keep it."

Iris looked up with a smirk. "Damn right I do."

Hermione sighed and Ron snickered.

As the crowd died down, Bagman spoke again excitedly, "Fourty-four points! That leaves Iris Potter with a total of ninety-four points for the first task, giving her first place!" Bagman's cheeks would surely rip with how wide his smile was.

"Can't believe I actually did it," murmured Iris.

"Congratulations, _all_ of you! What a spectacular task! A fantastic show! I dare say Iris Potter showed the _Daily Prophet_ just how wrong they were! Now, a few last words. The golden egg you four received contain a clue to help you with the third task. No, not the second task, but the third, which will be held on February twenty-fifth. The second task will be held in January, but we won't be telling you the exact date. It'll be a surprise! Now go on, I'm sure you'd all like to celebrate!"

"Iris, Iris! Bloody hell!" came Charlie's voice from behind her. Iris turned to see Charlie running at her, his mouth hanging open. "How did you do that? I've never been able to do something like that with my Dragonfire Shield Charms!"

"I thought you said you couldn't do them at all?" asked Ron.

"What?" Charlie said, frowning at Ron. "I told you that two years ago, Ron."

"Oh," Ron said, smiling sheepishly as Iris shot him an exasperated look.

"I thought you were a goner," Charlie continued, looking at Iris, "but then you did the shield, and all of us were right shocked, I'll tell you, but one of us nearly fainted when we saw you start to push the fire back. It looked like an incredibly strong combination of both the Water-Making Charm and Dragonfire Shield Charm. What spell was that?"

Iris shrugged. " _Praesidio Incaendium_ , the Dragonfire Shield Charm. I could tell that the dragon knew I wasn't done as the fire kept going, getting stronger and all, so I just pushed back harder. That's when the shield turned from a dome to that torrent."

"Well, whatever it was, it —"

But whatever he was going to say, it was stopped by the dreamy expression that suddenly washed over his and Ron's face.

Iris turned around and saw Fleur walking towards her. "Mademoiselle Delacour," Iris said. "Mes jambes sont en feu."

Fleur stopped and stared at Iris, a seemingly reluctant smile making its way upon her face. "Who told you to say that?" Fleur asked, holding back a laugh.

"Charlie here did," Iris said, nodding her head to the man in question.

Fleur turned to him in surprise, saw the state he was in, and wrinkled her nose at both him and Ron. "I am sure he did," she said. "Congratulations on first place, _Mademoiselle_ Potter."

"Jealous?"

"Iris!" Hermione whispered.

"Non," Fleur said haughtily, "You simply got lucky."

Hermione's eyes flared. "She did not get lucky!"

Fleur turned to her, ignoring Iris's amused look. "Ah, and you must be 'Ermione Granger. Professor Snape 'as told me so much about you."

Hermione stared incredulously at Fleur. "Professor Snape?!" she exclaimed. "What — you were — unbelievable! You were all supportive up in the stands, how could —" Hermione stopped when she heard Iris snickering beside her. "Oh, very funny, the both of you are hilarious," she said sarcastically, and she turned around and left.

"Hermione!" Iris called out, still laughing. "I'm sure Snape said wonderful things about you!"

"I'm going to sleep!" Hermione yelled back.

Iris stared at Hermione's back. " _She's_ going to sleep? If anyone deserves to go to sleep at this hour, it's _me_."

"I did mean it, I hope you know," Fleur said as the two began following Hermione back up to the castle, leaving two redheads behind them. There was something odd in her voice though. "You did very well."

"Are you okay?" Iris asked.

"Hm? Oh, oui. It's just — Madame Maxime asked me to finish 'ere quickly, then come to the carriage. I would rather not, however. Many of the other students will just insult me for losing to you, a fourteen year old."

"Don't go then," Iris said, shrugging.

"I'd rather not 'ave to 'ear Madame Maxime rant later because I ignored her. You are to be going up to your tower, are you not? To 'ave a party? You deserve it, for the way you fought the dragon."

"What, viking style?"

"Viking style?" Fleur asked, confused. "How so?"

"The shield, the braid, the — well, that's really it actually. Nevermind. I'll see you later then?"

"Oui, I'm sure. Goodnight, Iris."

"Night, Fleur," Iris said, and she made her way back to the castle alone, until Ron caught up with her and handed her the broken Firebolt. "Think they can get this fixed?"

"Most — most likely," said Ron, out of breath. "Might cost a bit, but it's not damaged like your previous broom was. Blimey, I still can't believe I just witnessed you battle a dragon."

"Blimey, you're saying blimey a lot."

"Oh, shut up."

The two made their way inside and up to the Gryffindor common room, ignoring the cheers and insults, talking about how Iris fared in the task. Ron was awfully impressed with almost everything: "I'd die in a second against that cockatrice! How do you keep a cool head all the time? That griffin almost got you! It's like they were trying to kill you all!"

The party in the common room must have lasted for hours, and almost everybody had something to say to her. The twins had put her up on their shoulders and praised her as if she was a goddess. Cormac McLaggen had made her laugh especially: "Potter, you get away with things no other student should get away with, attract all this trouble, fuck up our house points, but you know what? At the end of the day, you've done some pretty cool shit."

He ruined it by asking Iris out to Hogsmeade, again, however.

She didn't stick around for all of the party. She had gone through over an hour almost completely full of fighting for her life. She hoped Moody wouldn't mind her not showing up for class in the morning.

After she put away her broken Firebolt, unbraided her hair, undressed, and lay on her bed, she realized she had completely forgotten about Inigo and Nerissa.

"Oh, fuck me. Hermione, wake up! We've got conspiring to do."


	10. A Serpentine Life

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry this chapter took longer than usual. I had to rewrite some parts of the first few chapters.

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **A Serpentine Life**

 **1994, November 25, Hogwarts.**

It was the first snowfall of the school year. The temperatures had steadily declined throughout the month, so much so that the scarves, wooly sweaters, thick blankets, and Warming Charms were brought out earlier than usual. The center fireplace of the fourth-year girls' dormitory was lit, and three of the five students in the room were fast asleep, snuggled deep into their blankets.

Only one window was open, and as the cold wind breezed into the magically temperature secluded section of Iris Potter's share of the dormitory, the two students who were not sleeping were making their way out of the room, quietly discussing just how they were going to break yet another law.

Iris had stored her two-way mirror back into her trunk, laying it on top of _The Basics of Ancient Runes_ , which was next to a large golden egg. While Hermione thought up a plan on how they were going to free a horned serpent without being caught, Iris explained the first task to Sirius: to say he was furious would have been an understatement. Now that it had really sunk in for her, Iris had to agree with everything Sirius had said. It really did seem like they were intentionally trying to kill the champions.

For how much they went on about the tournament being safer, it was remarkable how even Hermione couldn't find any examples of a more dangerous task. One previous tournament had a task that featured one cockatrice and nothing more. Yes, she completely understood Sirius's exclamations of — "Are they bloody _crazy_?!" "It's a miracle you're alive!" "How _are_ you alive?"

Iris was attempting to put on joggers as she walked down the stairs, barely keeping herself upright. Her fingers brushed against one of the scars from the griffin. Her face twisted in displeasure. Part of her didn't mind it so much though. If anything, they were an excellent reminder to stay away from griffins… and dragons — and, she had to admit, the scars made her feel as though she was an ancient warrior with experience of real battles.

After nearly tripping and tumbling down the stairs for the fourth time, she finally pulled the jogging bottoms on.

"You know, if you had just told McGonagall you lost the Time-Turner, our lives would be _so much_ easier. We wouldn't be losing any sleep. I still say we should steal one."

Hermione glared at the back of her best friend's head as they walked down the steps to the common room. "If you thought I was going to let you abuse time travelling anymore than you've already done, you're mad."

"I didn't _abuse_ it, necessarily…"

"You used it nearly everyday for several weeks purely to get more sleep," Hermione pointed out as she stepped into the now empty common room. She looked back and saw Iris trying to sneak back upstairs. "Oh no, you're not going anywhere this time. Every other time we were about to get into this argument, you end up leaving the room."

"See, I don't get what's so wrong with that," Iris said, ignoring Hermione's second statement. "So I used your Time-Turner to get an additional four hours of sleep, so what? I only aged myself, what, like one or two weeks?"

"Yes, just from the extra sleep. With all of the other times you used it, it was more like one or two months."

"You're exaggerating," Iris said dismissively. "Outside of the time travel for sleep, I must've aged myself only a week or so more."

"That's not even the point," Hermione said hotly. "And I know that you used the Time-Turner when I didn't give you permission, Iris."

"Okay, two weeks. Big deal."

"You broke one of the major rules to time travel!" Hermione exclaimed, her frustration with just how close Iris had gotten to breaking reality leaking through again. It had a habit of doing so every time Hermione was reminded of the year before. " _Do not let your past-self meet you!_ You didn't just sleep, you _cuddled_ with yourself."

"Hermione, my parents are dead —"

"You are not using that card again."

"What I'm saying," Iris said slowly, "is that I have no family. By sleeping with myself — that sounds so wrong — I was able to pretty much sleep with my own sister — yeah, that sounds horrible. Point is I got to spend time with my own blood."

Hermione looked at Iris incredulously. Then she laughed, nearly hysterically. "That's certainly one way of looking at it. Fine, the extra sleep wasn't so bad because no one saw it, but the rest?"

"Which part?" Iris asked cautiously as she sat on the back of a couch. The two were still waiting for Ron to come down.

"Oh, _I don't know_ ," said Hermione, "how about the time you played Quidditch with yourself?" Iris opened her mouth to respond, but — "Or maybe the time you played a joke on the twins with your alternate self? _Hey Fred and George!_ " Hermione said in sarcastic, imitating sort of voice, " _Have you met my twin? Ivy?_ "

"To this day, they still think it was Polyjuice Potion, Hermione. No one was any the wiser!" Iris said, trying to justify herself. "And I don't sound like that!"

"Oh? And the times you switched yourself out with your future-self in Divinations to predict what would happen later that day? _Professor Trelawney, I've just had a vision_ — _later today, Professor Dumbledore will make a speech in the Great Hall about Sirius Black._ "

Iris laughed to herself. "Lavender and Parvati still ask me if I've had any new visions."

"It's not funny. Those are just the ones I know about, and I know you've done more with yourself." Iris went red in the cheeks. "I get that it's a closed time loop and all," Hermione said, "but nothing so confusing should be messed with. There's a reason those rules exist."

At that moment, Ron came walking down the stairs from the boys' dormitory. "What's so confusing that it shouldn't be messed with?"

"My time travelling last year," Iris said as she got off the couch. "Finally ready?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "I've gotta side with Hermione on that one though, I don't think people would appreciate you erasing yourself out of the timeline. Might be a bit quieter around here though."

"I wouldn't have," Iris said. "The first time I met myself, I was fully prepared. I had scheduled it the day before and all so I wouldn't be surprised when the time came. Explaining time travel is confusing, _yes_ , but planning it out isn't so bad. It's just what terms you should use that makes it all confusing — future me, past me, that kind of stuff. I planned out every single meeting with myself, alright?"

"Yes, yes, but it's still irresponsible," Hermione said. "Enough about that though. Are we all ready then? Cloaks for the weather?"

"Check," said Iris as she swung a charmed cloak over her shoulders. "Horned serpent breakout kit?"

"Check," said Ron. "Get out of Azkaban free card?"

"Never should have shown you Monopoly," Hermione muttered. "We'll be here all night if I let you two continue." She gave the two a push towards the portrait.

"Finally," said Ron, "I've felt so useless the past month, what with you two going on adventures without me."

"Useless is such a negative word," Iris said, frowning. "Look at yourself as a bad example instead. That way, you're still doing something — showing others what _not_ to do."

"Maybe you should have erased yourself from the timeline."

"Honestly, the things we get up to are the real things others ought not to do," Hermione said as they walked throughout the castle under the Invisibility Cloak. "But I do want to get that poor horned serpent out of there as soon as possible. It's cruel, completely cruel, that they lock her up in some small habitat after using her as some _obstacle_."

Truth be told, Iris wasn't sure if the horned serpent was locked in a small habitat at all. Nerissa certainly didn't seem to like the idea of going back, and Iris knew that itself was probably a decent enough reason for Hermione to break the law — if there was a law in the first place that said not to break out horned serpents from their prisons.

"It makes sense," said Ron. "They can't have creatures like that just running around — or swimming, I suppose. Muggles would easily see them when they came up, wouldn't they?"

"Yes," Hermione said testily, "but they could do what _we're_ about to do — place them in a large lake or something!"

"Are you really all that surprised?" Iris said. "We've been dealing with this sort of things for years now — adults being stupid and us having to clean up the mess. Norbert, the Philosopher's Stone, the basilisk, Sirius."

"We didn't necessarily _need_ to clean up the Philosopher's Stone mess," Hermione said as they made their way down the stairs outside the common room under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Whatever, I still say it was set up," Iris said, and as Hermione opened her mouth, she added, "and I still say you're too trusting of authority figures too. I'd think you'd have learned, what with Quirrell and his Voldemort thing; Binns and his terrible teaching; McGonagall and her ignoring us first year; Snape and — well, no need to explain that one; Lockhart and everything about him — boy, were you wrong there. _No, Iris, Lockhart is not a fraud!_ " Iris said in a high, mocking voice. "Psh."

Hermione raised her chin and looked the other way. "So I was wrong about Lockhart."

"And the Firebolt thing last year," added Ron.

"I was _not_ in the wrong for that."

"Yes, you were."

"No, I —"

"Hey, quiet you two," said Iris. "Come on, don't start bickering over this again."

"You were completely in the wrong. Sirius wasn't even a murderer in the end, was he?" Ron said.

" _We didn't know that at the time_ ," Hermione hissed.

"You still had no right," said Ron without heat. "Iris, agree with me."

"Then we'd both be wrong," Iris said, and she Silenced the two.

The three made their way out of the castle, quietly using a secret passageway to lead them to Hogsmeade. They met no one. The snow hadn't gathered enough to leave behind their footprints, but the cold had still hardened the grass, making nearly each step a _crunch_.

And so, they made it all the way to where they thought the horned serpent would be under the Invisibility Cloak. When they got near a corner of a cliff wall, Iris slipped out from underneath the cloak.

"Okay," she said. "You two ready? Remember, shoot up red sparks if you see _anyone_ making their way here, then slip back under the cloak."

"Are you sure you should go alone?" Ron asked.

"We talked about this," Iris said. "Whoever is here on the lookout will be able to slip under the cloak and easily hide. Only Moody and Dumbledore can see under it, and I doubt they'll be coming out. But whoever is with me won't have a cloak to slip under. That means finding a spot to hide the old fashioned way. It's a lot easier for just one person to do that instead of two. Besides, one extra person isn't going to help. All I have to do is blow up a wall."

"Are you sure you can perform the Gouging Spell correctly enough to dig through one of those thick walls?" Hermione asked.

"Not really, but if not, there's other explosive spells I know."

Hermione winced, no doubt wary of the knowledge Iris now possessed that involved destruction.

"Really, Hermione," Iris said, exasperated. "If I'm as bad as you seem to suggest, you'd think I'd have brought down the castle by now."

And then, before she knew it, Iris had found herself in front of the wall that led to the small lake, if the perspective from this angle was any indication at least.

Iris drew her wand and pointed it at the wall. " _Defodio!_ "

Nothing happened.

"Damn it," Iris said. The wall had enchantments on it. Aiming her wand at the wall again, she whispered, " _Bombarda_."

There was a faint light, gray in color, and then an explosion of sound. Iris could hear it echoing throughout the area. It was easily loud enough to attract attention. The wall, however, had not been completely demolished.

Iris pointed her wand once more. " _Bombarda Maxima!_ "

There was a brighter flash of light this time, and a louder explosion that followed, and anyone still awake would surely believe the snowfall had turned into a thunderstorm. As the dust of the explosion cleared, Iris became very glad that the spell she had just used wouldn't work the same on people, or so Hermione said; the Cannon Spell ( _Bombarda_ ) would only work the way it was supposed to on physical objects that weren't living. It could still severely injure a person, should they be hit by it at close range and in a fragile location, but it wouldn't blow them to pieces. Magic was funny that way.

Iris admired her work through the settling dust. "Beautiful."

She stepped through the clearing she had made. Despite the darkness, the snowfall, and its own black head that blended into the black of the night, Iris could see the horned serpent sticking her head above the water, near the lakeshore.

A burst of flames alerted her to Inigo's presence as well. He was in the center of the lake, on the small isle. Iris picked up a stick from the ground, Transfigured it to look like a flobberworm, added a Writhing Charm to it, then Banished it towards the isle; she could not Summon live beings after all. She walked to Nerissa, the horned serpent, and let Inigo investigate the 'flobberworm' for now.

" _You came_ ," said Nerissa, sounding a bit surprised.

" _No, that was two days ago_ ," Iris said in Parseltongue. " _Why do you think I know that Writhing Charm? Place one on a Transfigured bit of long rubber and — you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Nevermind. It's time to get you out of here._ "

" _Let me get your pet_."

" _No need_ ," Iris said, and switching back to English, she said, " _Accio_!"

There was a surprised hiss from the isle, and a moment later, the Transfigured flobberworm flew into Iris's hand, Inigo's jaw clamped firmly on it.

"Hello, Inigo," Iris said as she dispelled the Transfiguration and put the disappointed dragon on her shoulder. Inigo licked the side of her face affectionately and her eyes grew soft at the display. Iris suddenly wanted to keep him. But she would not. She knew a better place for him.

She looked back to Nerissa, but saw she was no longer there, but already slithering through the large hole made in the tall wall.

Catching up, Iris said to her, _"Do you need help getting there?"_

" _No,"_ Nerissa said. " _I know where the lake is. The wall was simply too tall for me to climb, and it had magic that have likely stopped me anyway. Thank you, Vanquisher of Dark Wizards, Slayer of —"_

" _Don't_ _start_ ," Iris said, but before either of them could say or do anything more, red sparks shot high into the air in the distance. "Oh, no," Iris moaned. She wasn't sure why she had hoped this would go smoothly —

She saw the glow of a lit wand from behind the corner of a rock wall. Nerissa had already fled into the forest, her black scales now completely blending in with the dark, but Iris knew she had no time to find a spot to hide. She wasn't nearly as quick as a horned serpent and there were no dark corners or objects to hide behind near her.

She plucked Inigo from her shoulder and put him in her pocket, putting her wand back up her sleeve at the same time. Just as she withdrew her hand from her pocket, her eyes closed and her mind focused, a figure rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of Iris. He had short brown hair and an uneven face, as though he had a broken nose, cheek, and jaw.

"Who are you?" he shouted in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same question," Iris said, trying to throw as much authority as she could in her voice. "Talk, _now_."

"Excuse me?" the man said angrily. "Who do you think you are? Are you a student?"

"Vat? Oh yes," Iris said, now throwing a Bulgarian accent into her voice. "Durmstrang. Here to vatch Viktor Krum."

The man's eyes flickered to the wall behind her. His eyes bulged. As he said, _"Lumos Maxima!_ " and flicked his wand to send the ball of light to the wall, which would no doubt illuminate all of its destruction, Iris drew her wand.

" _Stupefy_ ," she said lazily. The man's eyes bulged even more as he recognized the first syllable of the spell, but too late. The nearly frozen grass crunched as he dropped to the ground, unconscious. Iris looked down to her wand. "What an incredibly useful spell."

She Summoned some rubble of the wall, Transfigured it into a thick blanket — or as close to a blanket as she could get in a hurry — cast a Warming Charm on it, and the man himself, before covering him with it. He would wake in half an hour anyway, making Iris's actions likely pointless, but she didn't want him to wake up freezing.

Iris took her golden eyes from the man and turned to walk away, her thigh-length blonde hair trailing behind her.

* * *

"So why can't people just Transfigure themselves into a new appearance?" whispered Ron during lunch in the Great Hall, nine hours later. The trip back to the castle was uneventful and the three were able to get back to their beds without any further trouble. Just moments ago, however, several people had marched into the Great Hall and begun scanning the faces of all the Durmstrang students. Iris did her best to hide her smirk.

"Human Transfiguration is very difficult, Ron," said Hermione quietly as she nervously watched the Aurors take a closer look at every long-haired blonde. "We don't cover it until sixth year, and even then, I believe we start with changing the color of our eyebrows. You need a wand to do it as well. Metamorphmagi can change without one. Transfigurations can be reversed as well. You can't force a Metamorphmagus to change. And not to mention that they can change multiple things at once, very quickly."

"So… quicker, easier, permanent?"

Hermione nodded and looked to Iris. "Are you sure they won't figure out it's you? You only changed your hair and eyes."

"They won't figure it out," Iris said, but there was an inkling of uncertainty, like a dripping faucet, resting deep within her chest. She waited until an Auror passed by her. She quirked an eyebrow at him. He moved on. "I made my hair lengthen to my thighs, made it blonde, my eyes gold, my skin very pale… He was hopefully more focused on my eyes and hair to really take in my appearance. Besides, I made sure my hair covered like half of my face."

Another man stopped by, the same one Iris had Stunned. He gazed down at Lavender for a moment before moving on to Hermione and Iris. His eyes stared at Iris a little longer than Iris liked.

"You," he said. "You got a sister?"

"Excuse me?" Iris said, feigning anger.

"I said... have you got a sister?"

"You're kidding, right?" Iris asked, her voice full of anger — completely fake, of course.

"Does it look like I'm —"

The man was interrupted by another. "Dawlish, that's _Potter_."

Dawlish looked back down at Iris, his eyes flickering to her scar, and he grimaced. "Oh. Sorry, Miss Potter. You looked similar to someone we're looking for. Long blonde hair, gold eyes, pale, but a bit similar in the rest. Thought maybe she'd be your sister… before I knew you were Iris Potter, of course."

"You thought a blonde, golden-eyed, pale girl was the sister of a black-haired, green-eyed, moderately tanned girl?" Iris asked, amused.

"Well… I suppose not," Dawlish said. "Good day then." He turned and began walking down the table again.

Hermione let out a small sigh of relief, and looked over to Ron, who hadn't stopped eating throughout the entire exchange. She opened her mouth to say something to him —

Iris didn't pay attention. Her eyes were focused on Dumbledore and his piercing gaze. He was staring directly at her. She fought back the urge to gulp, and her heart dropped to her stomach when Dumbledore stood. Was he going to call her out in front of everyone? She had stared directly into his eyes — was it enough? Was he able to read her mind long enough to determine if she was guilty? No, she thought, not by the look on his face now. She was safe, she was sure of it.

Mostly sure of it.

"He knows!" Hermione whispered in her ear frantically.

"No, he doesn't," Iris said firmly, pushing Hermione's face back with her palm.

"Good afternoon!" Dumbledore said to the Great Hall. "I'm sure the excitement from yesterday hasn't ebbed away just yet, nor, I imagine, will it a week from now. Well, I shall give you a little more to whisper about."

The majority of the Great Hall began murmuring.

"It has come to our attention," Dumbledore said, silencing the hall, "that there could be a bit more competition between our three schools for not just our champions, but _everyone_! So! I will give the floor to Mr. Bagman."

Bagman then stood up. "Hello!" he said cheerfully. "We, the tournament designers, have decided to have a dueling championship between our champions _and_ … all three schools!"

The hall began whispering again, excitedly.

"Yes, yes!" Bagman continued. "Very exciting. Dueling after all can be a big part of a wizard's life! Not only will our fellow champions duel each other, all outside the tasks of course, but there will also be a championship between all three schools, of any year!"

Many people in the hall cheered and yelled happily. Fred and George had hugged each other, and began pretending to cry. Iris stared at Bagman without blinking. Bagman met her eyes and he faltered as he began to speak again, likely from the heated look Iris was sending him.

"N-now, the details… the champions will all duel each other, so there will be a total of six duels. The first will start in December. The details will also be posted in the entrance hall, but we'll tell you now. There will be one duel a month. The first duel will be on December the tenth, between Cassius Warrington and Fleur Delacour."

Fleur and Cassius looked at each other appraisingly. Krum locked eyes with Iris, his expression unreadable.

"You've got no real idea how to duel, do you, Iris?" Ron asked, looking up at her in concern.

Iris glared at him. "Of course not."

"The second duel," said Bagman, "will be on the fifteenth of January, between Viktor Krum and Iris Potter."

Krum's mouth twisted into a cruel smile as he stared at Iris, but Iris wasn't paying attention.

She was whispering to Hermione. "If it's not also on the tenth, that might mean the second task, the one we're not supposed to know the date of, will be held around the tenth. They likely didn't want to place the two events so close together. Can't have two champions dueling each other if they're missing a bloody arm, can they?"

Hermione tilted her head in consideration. "That's… well, that actually makes sense. But unless we know what it is, there's not much we can do, is there?"

"The third duel," began Bagman again, "will be on the tenth of February, between the two winners of the first two duels. The fourth duel, on the tenth of March, will be between the two losers of the first two duels. The matchup of the fifth and sixth duel, on the fifteenth of April and tenth of May, respectively, will be decided on after the fourth duel. Now, each victory will give that victor a total of ten points. This means there are a total of thirty points available for the champions to get ahead, should they currently be behind."

Many eyes turned to a scowling Krum.

Bagman explained the other duels for the rest of the student body, but Iris wasn't paying attention. She was instead reaching inside her robes. She pulled out a small mandrake leaf. She cast a Sticking Charm on it under the table and shoved it into her mouth, sticking it to the roof of the inside, close to the back of her throat. She nearly gagged as she did so.

"Did you just put the leaf inside? Now?" Hermione asked.

"I wonder if I'm going to talk all — oh, no I'm not. Excellent," Iris said, happy that her speech wouldn't be all funny. This meant she would be able to take the leaf out on Christmas day. "This is already annoying," she said, feeling the leaf near the back of her throat. "It'll be a Christmas present to myself to be able to take this out."

"Iris!"

Iris looked over at Ginny, who was smiling widely. She held up a bag and shook it. Iris heard the jingling of coins inside, and looked at Ginny, shaking her head slightly to tell her she had no idea what Ginny was doing.

"Malfoy bet that you'd come in last place," she said. "In the first task, I mean. I took him up on his bet. Just wanted to thank you!"

Ron gaped at his sister. "How much did you get from him?"

Ginny beamed. "Ten galleons!"

"Ten galleons?!"

"Yep! I bet that she'd come in at least second place!"

"Second place?" Iris said, pretending to be insulted. She ripped off a piece of bacon and placed it in the pocket of her robes. She felt Inigo snatch it out of her fingers.

Ginny shrugged. "Didn't have the money to back up a bet for you coming into first place."

"Well, don't bet on me with these duels," Iris said. "I'll likely be coming out as the loser in all of them, and yes, Malfoy, I'll freely admit that," she said when she saw Malfoy open his mouth at his table. "The last real duel I had was with you, of course I'm going to lose. At least I can freely admit defeat, unlike some people."

Malfoy went pink in the face. "You better quickly learn who I am, Potter, who my father is, what my family is." There was an odd, unnatural tone to his voice, as though he was forcing himself to say these things. Iris rolled her eyes, as did most of the Gryffindors and several Slytherins. "I am a Malfoy and —"

Iris interrupted. " _I'm a Malfoy_ — blah, blah, blah, why is that everytime you speak, I want to throw up?"

Someone at the Slytherin table choked on their drink, and Iris looked over to see Tracey Davis laughing and coughing up pumpkin juice at the same time.

Tracey Davis was a pretty looking girl, Iris thought, a brunette, and rather dainty. She wore an air of bubbly liveliness around her, in the way she looked, even in the way she moved; she looked as though she was having the time of her life, pouring herself more pumpkin juice.

"Speaking of your father, Draco," Tracey said cheerfully, "have you told him you need more money? Y'know, seeing as you bet your allowance away?"

Malfoy's lips twisted with malice. "Keep your filthy half-blood mouth shut!"

Daphne Greengrass, who had voluminous blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and a light, lazy expression on her face, as though she wouldn't have cared if the world around her promptly burst into flames, looked at Malfoy. Even from a distance, Iris could see Daphne Greengrass's eyes turn angry as she said quietly, "Draco, must we go through this again?"

Her quiet, soft voice carried to the Gryffindor table, though Iris was sure it was not meant to.

Malfoy's scowl seemed to disappear at once, and it was replaced by a look Iris hoped to never see on Malfoy again. "Not if you become my girlfriend."

Daphne raised her eyebrows, looking at him incredulously. "You're kidding."

"No, go out with me — Hogsmeade. Or if you'd like, we can find a more private place," Malfoy said suggestively. "Malfoy's are big in more than just their piles of gold you know."

Daphne shook her head disbelievingly and turned back to her meal, muttering under her breath, though again likely not meaning for it be overheard, "Draco, there's more dick in your personality than in your pants."

For the first time, it seemed, Gryffindors and Slytherins both laughed in unison; maybe it was because Malfoy had made a fool of himself in losing hundreds of galleons just the day before, or maybe the Slytherins were finally getting sick of him. Daphne looked up in surprise. There was no blush on her cheeks, but Iris had the impression she looked sheepish.

"Come on you two," Hermione said, a faint smile playing on her lips. "We have homework to do."

"Hoped you'd never ask," Iris said.

Hermione looked at her questionably. "I think you mean you _thought_ I'd never —"

"I know what I said."

Ron snorted.

"We have History of Magic soon," Hermione said, ignoring Iris now. "Can't you do your homework in there if not now? You're not going to pay attention to Professor Binns, so you might as well do something productive. Honestly, after yesterday, you'd think homework wasn't that bad…"

"Hey, I love homework," Iris said. "I could watch you do it all day.

"Fine," Hermione said, "just don't come to me later wanting me to help you. I'm going to visit the kitchens."

"What for?" Ron asked, looking completely bewildered. "We've just ate."

"Not to _eat_ ," Hermione said, annoyed, "but to see the house-elves! Iris, you want to see Dobby, don't you?"

Iris shrugged. "I imagine Dobby's doing just fine. He has his own special sock, I'm sure he's enjoying himself plenty."

"Don't either of you care for —"

"No."

Hermione huffed. Iris resisted the urge to throw something at her. Hermione still hadn't given up on the whole S.P.E.W. thing, and while Iris wanted to support her best friend, it had begun grating on her nerves long ago.

"Well, you _should_ ," Hermione said. "You two just don't seem to want to understand — I just don't understand how you two were perfectly fine with — well, doing what we did just this early morning, but when it comes to house-elves, you don't want —"

"For god's sake, Hermione," Iris said. Hermione blinked. "Don't _you_ get it? The damn serpent _wanted_ to be free. The house-elves don't."

"But —"

"You can go down there, get on your knees, and _beg_ _them_ to seek freedom, and they _won't_."

"If we just —"

"No!" Iris snapped. "This is ridiculous. You're making a fool out of yourself. Work towards better elf rights, but quit trying to free them yourself. They _like_ work. It's the same thing as samurais wanting to fight and die in battle. They find it honorable. It's only brainwashing in the same sense that _every_ culture brainwashes people."

"The exact same thing happened with muggle women!" Hermione said angrily. "They all _liked_ being stay-at-home wives, not being able to follow their own passion, and they themselves were ashamed if they were to lose their husbands. It's almost the same thing!"

"The same thing still happens in today's culture," Iris said. "How many here would be ashamed if they never got some important job? Percy's a prime example. Could you imagine what Percy would be like if he got fired from his job? He'd be the same as Winky — drinking himself to sleep, bursting into tears whenever someone mentioned Crouch, pissing himself —"

"That's _different_ ," Hermione hissed at her. "Percy can quit whenever he wants."

"Then work on _that_! Right now, you're just trying to free them whether they want to or not. Whoever created house-elves to be servants was evil, sure, but you can't speak for the house-elves now. Even Dobby likes work despite being freed."

"Only because he was brainwashed," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"You — you — _agh_!" Iris threw her hands in the air in exasperation then got up from her seat. "Stop the abuse and let them have the choice of working. If you want to get anywhere with your little rebellion, _start_ _there_. Otherwise, you won't get anywhere. Honestly, I talked with Dobby a few days ago. The damn elves are terrified of you, Hermione. Soon they'll be calling you She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Iris left the hall a moment later, Ron watching her go.

"You sure know how to rile them up."

"She's just angry because she had no retort," Hermione said brusquely.

Ron didn't look like he agreed with this statement, but not wanting to argue about it, he wisely kept his mouth closed.

Ron and Hermione didn't see Iris until hours later. She hadn't come to History of Magic, and Hermione began chewing her lip, thinking that Iris had gone to do something incredibly dangerous to blow off steam.

"I'm telling you, Hermione, she's fine," Ron said after they had left History of Magic. "This isn't the first time she's skived off History of Magic, is it? Maybe she went to visit Hagrid."

Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes still carrying a sign of worry. But the two visited Hagrid, and Iris was not there. They did, however, find Inigo playing with an absolutely jubilant Hagrid.

"I don' know," Hagrid said, the edges of his lips looking as though they had been taped to his ears. "She came here ter give me Inigo, an' then she jus' said she owed someone money an' had ter go. He's wonderful though, ain't he?" Hagrid petted Inigo with a single large finger. "She said I could have him, said tha' he was a prize fer comin' in firs' place, could yeh believe tha' they would jus' give her him?"

Hermione and Ron didn't think they had ever seen Hagrid so happy before. It looked as though Hagrid's lips would tear from the enormous smile he had on.

"And he'll never grow," said a voice from the entrance of Hagrid's home. Hermione and Ron whipped around to see Iris making her way into the room. "You won't have to worry about him like you did Norbert. He'll stay small, but be a dragon nonetheless."

Hagrid beamed at her. "Yer know I've always wanted a dragon, and Inigo is perfect! I can never thank yeh enough, Iris."

"Feel free to try though," Iris said, smiling. "Galleons, magical artifacts, a pet basilisk."

Hagrid chuckled heartily. "Now, a basilisk! Tha'd be somethin' ter see! Only kiddin'!" Hagrid said when he saw Iris make a face.

"Yeah, well, Newton Scamander isn't," Iris said, flashing a letter as she sat down.

"Iris, where were you?" Hermione asked as Ron took the letter.

Iris poured herself tea. "Hogsmeade, Aberforth — no, not to drink, Hermione, but to pay Aberforth back for the firewhisky."

It was a testament to how much Hagrid loved dragons that Iris's comment slipped by his ears.

"Is he mad?" Ron exclaimed, looking up from the letter. "He's gone barmy, if he wasn't before! He's joking, isn't he?"

"He's friends with Dumbledore," Iris said, answering Ron's first question. She motioned Ron to give Hermione the letter, and he did. "I don't see why he'd send me that letter if he was joking though. It wouldn't have a killing gaze, obviously. He'd magically remove that or whatever." Iris took a sip of tea. "Not sure about the venom. Either way, I don't think it'd be quite legal for me, would it?"

Hermione finished the letter and looked at Iris, her jaw hanging loosely. "What he's doing is completely illegal!" she said, outraged. "Not to mention extremely dangerous! Isn't one enough? Why in the world does he need _two_?!"

"Did you not read the letter fully?"

"Of course not, this is too ridiculous to keep reading!" Hermione said. "Have you sent a letter declining yet?"

Iris looked down at her tea. "What makes you think I'm going to decline?"

A cup shattered as it hit the ground. Ron was gaping at her, and Hermione was too shocked to respond. Hagrid hadn't noticed at all. Inigo was moving in and out of his beard.

"You — you can't be serious," Ron said.

Iris shrugged. "If I decline, he'll have three, not two — and to answer your question, Hermione, basilisks get lonely."

"Iris, you're not seriously thinking about accepting this offer? A pet basilisk? And lonely? And what, you'll get another to keep the first company?" Hermione said.

Iris shrugged again. "I don't know. He said I had plenty of time to decide. Why not though? The killing gaze would be gone, and the venom might too. It'll be magically resistant but that's it."

"It'll also grow to be large enough to eat Hagrid!"

Hagrid's attention was instantly given to Hermione. "Wha'? Wha' can eat me?" he asked, very interested now. "Oh, Iris? Why did yeh name him Inigo?"

Iris frowned. "You can change it if you want."

"No, no," Hagrid said. "It's fine. I was jus' wonderin' is all, curiousity an' all tha'."

"Well, I wanted to give another magical creature a name, but Seraphina, a sphinx, told me —"

"A sphinx?" Hagrid exclaimed, and so, Iris told Hagrid about how she had met Seraphina and the phoenix, which she would have called Astra, had she decided in time. Now she wasn't sure if she'd ever see the phoenix again. She left out exactly where she had met the two, and instead told Hagrid it was somewhere in the forest.

"— so I looked up a bunch of names and what they mean while I was in the library one day with Hermione, bored out of my mind. Ignatius and Inigo meant fiery."

Hagrid nodded. "It's a good name."

"Iris?" Hermione asked with an expression that made it clear the other conversation wasn't done.

Iris shook her head. "In a thousand years, maybe it'll be that big."

"Newt's basilisk was still huge after fifty years!"

"And in fifty years, I'll have a safe place for him. Or her."

Hermione and Ron gaped at Iris.

"Whatever," Iris said in a tone that suggested she wasn't in the greatest of moods. "It'll be my choice. What bad could really come out of it?"

"It could eat Crookshanks for one," Hermione said incredulously.

"She said what _bad_ could come from it," said Ron.

Hermione glared at him, but before she opened her mouth, Iris took the letter and read through it again while Ron riled Hermione up. It _was_ a bit ridiculous. Newt had sent her a letter telling her that Jerry had spent too much time alone and that he wanted another basilisk to spend time with.

' _There will come a day where I will pass on and Jerry will be alone. It is best if he has someone to share those hundreds of years with_ ,' Newt had written.

And so, he had begun the process of making another basilisk. Apparently it wasn't as simple as just hatching an egg under a toad, or many more lunatics would end up doing it. He hadn't included the details in the letter, of course, but he had said he had started on it, and soon after, he discovered there would be _two_ basilisks coming from the egg. How he knew this was anyone's guess, but he had offered to give Iris one of them, to let her raise one. He'd give her all the necessary information should she accept.

And of course, he'd do the same as he did with Jerry — remove the killing gaze. Iris wasn't sure if the venom would remain, and she also didn't know if she would rather it stay. On one hand, it was incredibly deadly and only phoenix tears neutralized it. On the other hand, however, she'd like to see anyone try harming her with a basilisk hanging off her shoulders. The idea of having such a powerful creature in… in her pocket? What size were they even born?

But no, that wouldn't work anyway. She'd have to hide the fact she had a basilisk, and how was she to do that? She didn't like the idea of keeping any creature in the Chamber of Secrets. It was a dull and depressing place. And thinking of the Chamber, she wondered if she'd be okay with raising a basilisk after her first experience with one.

Iris laughed to herself, receiving odd looks from Ron and Hermione. It would be her that was able to say if a certain basilisk encounter was a first or second encounter… and if she accepted Newt's offer, she'd have a third…

Could she pass it off as a normal snake? But how long would it take until people realized it was extremely magically resistant? How long before it grew past the size of a normal snake? Would it further paint her as a dark witch if it was learned she had any snake, magical or not, around? It was this last thought that brought her mood down again.

After leaving the Great Hall hours earlier, Iris had gone to Hagrid's to give him Inigo. He was delighted, had almost crushed all of her ribs in his hug. Hagrid deserved it though. While Hagrid couldn't speak Parseltongue, she didn't think it would be too hard for the two to communicate. Inigo had his own way of expressing his dissatisfaction — setting things on fire. Hagrid would get the idea fast enough. And Inigo would also likely enjoy it more out here, where he had more space — not to mention Iris seriously doubted she'd be allowed a fire breathing creature within the walls.

She snorted with laughter; and she was thinking of keeping an extremely venomous creature within the walls.

After Hagrid's, she had travelled down to Hogsmeade and to the Hog's Head. Aberforth seemed surprised she had actually come to give him the ten galleons. He gladly accepted it though, and had congratulated her on her victory in the first task, claiming he had come to watch: "Yeah, I was there. For not being allowed to kill most of the creatures, you did very well. Good job, Potter, I underestimated you. Thought you'd die after seeing the other three champions. Told you it was an idiot thing to do though, using Parseltongue."

It was this last comment by Aberforth that was upsetting her. She had ignored the whispers and stares throughout the day, but after Aberforth's insistence that many were already gossiping about her being a dark witch, not only because she used Parseltongue, but because she had come in first place in the first task, she had begun listening: "It had to be dark magic! How else would she beat three actual champions, ones who didn't cheat their way in? She had to use some special dark power to do what she did! You saw her using Parseltongue!" someone had said in the library while Iris was looking for Hermione after coming back from Hogsmeade.

Iris looked down at the letter again.

' _They won't hatch for a while, so you've got several weeks to decide. Again, the killing gaze won't be a problem. If you begin raising him/her from very early, the serpent will listen to you (and you only, unless you have kids), be your friend, and you won't regret it. I'm certainly excited to raise another!'_

She couldn't lie to herself. The idea of raising such a powerful creature, killing gaze or not, and being able to communicate to it was appealing. Very much so. But was it really worth the trouble?

She had enjoyed speaking with Inigo, but he couldn't speak back. But if being the only one speaking to a magical creature was enjoyable enough, what if she could fully communicate with one? But she already had people to talk to. Did she really need a snake? What could she tell a basilisk that she couldn't tell Hermione? Perhaps a basilisk would be a bit more accepting of her urges to make Snape and Malfoy die. Slowly.

She wasn't sure why she was seriously thinking about accepting a basilisk from Newt, a man known to be just as reckless with Hagrid when it came to magical creatures. She and Hermione had an argument a few hours before. Did she want a companion that could always stick with her, both physically and when it came to moral topics?

And that, too, was something she couldn't stop thinking about now, not even when they had said goodbye to Hagrid and begun walking back to the castle. Would she do something immoral with a basilisk? It wasn't as though she'd set it loose on Slytherins, have the basilisk start biting them. Probably not. But she wasn't lying when she had told Hermione, many times in fact, that she didn't really care about the whole house-elf issue.

Maybe it was growing up with the Dursleys, but, though she hid it well, she knew there was a side to her that would be just fine with someone like Rita Skeeter, Snape or Malfoy dying, even if they didn't deserve death. She had grown up with people who hadn't given a damn about the homeless, the sick, those they considered beneath them... She had gone out of her way to be better than the Dursleys, of course, and one would think she of all people would be sympathetic to the house-elves — and she was, if they _wanted_ to be free. In all their attempts, the Dursleys had never come even close to brainwashing Iris to think that she wanted to be their little servant.

If she, from the age of one, was constantly told she wasn't important, that she was nothing more than a useful tool to do the chores, for a whole decade… were the elves much different? If she had despised doing all that work, always, didn't that mean Hermione was going about it the wrong way? She was all for improving their living situations, making abuse illegal, giving them decent clothing, etc.

Still, the question still hung in her mind.

Would having a companion whose loyalty _never_ wavered be a good idea for her?

The memories of Tom Riddle swam up to the surface of her mind, the screams of the children now sounding as though they were coming from outside the window, from within the Forbidden Forest, where Iris had uncovered those very memories.

Could a basilisk follow her orders at such a young age, where it was small enough to slither into tight spots, staying hidden while it eavesdropped on discussions about the tournament?

She pushed it all out of her mind once she entered the Great Hall. She hadn't realized it was dinner, but when she walked into the Great Hall, it wasn't that fact that popped into her mind. It was the unease from everyone stopping their conversations and staring at her. Iris noticed several papers in people's hands: _The Daily Prophet_.

"Great," she said. "What kind of rubbish has Rita come up with now?"

Hermione read one of the papers as she passed a sitting student. "Actually, the headline looks fine for once."

Iris snatched a paper out of Ginny's hands, earning a hiss from the redhead, and sat down.

"You know what, you deserve to read that," Ginny said as she turned to her food.

"That bad?" Iris asked.

Ginny didn't answer.

Iris looked down at the front page and read the headline.

* * *

 _ **Potter #1 Champion in First Task!**_

 _Written by Andy Smudgley_

 _Yesterday was a big day for Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and indeed, the entirety of wizarding Europe. The first task, an event for the Triwizard Tournament, was held on this big day. Many were there, including this very reporter, to witness the four champions compete against a multitude of dangerous magical creatures over the span of at least five hours!_

 _And an incredible event it was! Absolutely fascinating what our young champions, our young wizards (and witch) can do, especially one Iris Potter. Yes, the headline means exactly what you might think. Potter has come out ahead, as number one, in the first task, and by quite the margin! It was of no surprise to most after we all witnessed Potter battle a dragon head-on!_

 _Before we go into the details of the first task, here are the final scores each of the champions received…_

* * *

Iris looked at Ginny quizzically. "This isn't bad at all."

"Turn the page," is all that Ginny said.

Flipping the page, Iris saw two headlines that stuck out to her. On the right page, the largest headline read:

 **Horned Serpent Escape!**

Iris kept her face perfectly blank as she skimmed over the article. Thankfully, the article featured nothing that could even come close to identifying her: ' _Long blonde hair that fell to her knees, very golden eyes, a pale complexion, a Bulgarian accent…_ '

Under this article, another caught her eye. She looked down at it in surprise, and muttered, "Ron, they're changing a Quidditch rule."

"What?" Ron said, and he leaned in to read. "Why the hell are they doing that?"

* * *

 _ **Quidditch Rule Changes!**_

 _The Departments of Magical Games and Sports across the wizarding world have decided that the traditional 150 points the Seeker earns when they catch the Snitch is now too much, and it's because of the newest brooms. "Beaters and Chasers are being outshone by the Seeker nowadays," says Ludo Bagman. "Speed matters for all players, of course, but it matters most for Seekers, and Seekers are catching Snitches faster than ever now, leaving the Chasers, Beaters, and Keepers with only a little to take pride in."_

" _It's happening in official games, and in school games as well," says Elettra Proust, an employee of the British Department of Magical Games and Sports. "Potter is a prime example, I think. She currently holds the record for quickest Snitch catch in Hogwarts history! She deserves the recognition for that, of course, but her broom undoubtedly helped, and the other players deserve something too. With the Snitch being fifty points instead of three times that, Seekers will spend more time hesitating if their team is far behind in points. Snitches will no longer frequently win the game even if your team is behind a hundred points."_

 _The points gained from the hoops has also changed! Whereas all three of the hoops were 10 points, from now on, only the middle one will remain so, as it's the easiest to guard. The two on the sides will now both be worth 5 points instead._

 _Many Quidditch fans have become outraged by this, and many others have said that they understand the change and even agree with it…_

* * *

"I think that's fair..." Iris said slowly. "It makes sense, at least."

Ron grabbed another paper that someone had set down and began reading the rest of the article for the rule change. "You're mentioned in all four of the main articles. Well, three officially."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Someone will overhear you."

The headline on the left page made Iris want to accept Newt's offer just so she could feed Rita Skeeter to the basilisk. But reading through it, the article mostly made her realize having a basilisk would be a very bad idea indeed.

* * *

 _ **Parselmouth Potter**_

 _The Girl Who Lived, Iris Potter, has come into first place in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. How, one might ask? That's a question we would all like the answer to,_ writesRitaSkeeter. _As a fourth-year champion, it's rather strange that Potter has come into first place, and not by a small margin. Many are saying she blew the other champions away in her final score, but there are certain things to be mentioned._

 _For one, Potter took longer than any other champion to complete the task. Why should she have gained the most points if she took the longest?_

 _Two, she brought a small modified pet dragon with her. True, this wasn't on the list of things the champions weren't allowed to bring, but the fact this small dragon helped her in the task does beg the question — just why were there no consequences for this?_

 _Three, Potter used Parseltongue! Oh yes, Iris Potter is a Parselmouth. This interesting detail was kept from the public, but apparently, students at Hogwarts already knew. Was Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, keeping this a secret? Parseltongue has been known to be an ability dark wizards and witches had and used. Why, this reporter isn't sure if there has ever been a recorded instance of a good wizard or witch having the ability._

 _Potter was seen and heard using this ability in the first task, not once, not twice, not three times, but a total of four times! Against numerous snakes, to make the modified pet dragon follow her commands, to get past a horned serpent, and against the actual dragon as well! Did Potter tell the dragon to go easy on her? Why was she allowed to use the ability if none of the other champions had it? And another important question: if every Parselmouth before her was dark, what does this mean for Potter?_

 _Will Potter continue to use dark abilities in the future tasks? Surely Albus Dumbledore should consider if Potter should really compete in this tournament if she could be a possible danger to the other champions. She's already proven she's willing to find loopholes in the rules in the first task, what's to say she won't go to more extreme measures, such as outright sabotaging the other champions?_

 _A member from the Dark Force Defense League…_

* * *

"Suppose I shouldn't get a basilisk after all," Iris said lightly.

Neville, who was sitting nearby, dropped his spoon and looked at Iris. In fact, many Gryffindors and students from the nearby tables stopped what they were doing and looked at her with wide eyes, some of them looking wary, some amused, and others outright terrified.

"Oh, I wasn't being serious," she said.

Neville gave her a nervous smile. "Not being serious like the time you said you weren't serious when you said you and Hagrid were raising a hydra, or like the time you said you definitely didn't Transfigure Crookshanks into a lion?"

"You know perfectly well that was an accident, Neville."

Hermione glared at Iris. "How does someone accidentally Transfigure something that small into a lion? We don't learn how to do Transfiguration that advanced until later."

Seamus shook his head. "You're like a tiny Hagrid. Bloody frightening, it is."

"It _was_ frightening," said Parvati Patil from next to Seamus. "I walked into our dormitory to grab something and there was a lion on Lavender's bed!"

Seamus snorted. "I've got Gryffindor pride and all, but I don't know if I'd call myself a lion."

Lavender reached around Parvati and smacked Seamus across the back of his head. Iris watched Lavender, Parvati and Seamus banter with each other with a small smile, one that quickly disappeared when she saw that there were some Gryffindors that were treating her as though she was an erumpent who was to slam her head into the table any second, causing the horn to explode and kill them all.

"You probably shouldn't have said that," whispered Hermione from her right.

"Yeah," said Ron very loudly, "I think you'll need to save _another_ person's life for them to stop being gits. Maybe then they'll realize someone who goes around saving lives left and right won't become a Dark Lady."

"You know," Iris said, looking thoughtful, "Dark Lady doesn't have the same feel as Dark Lord. Maybe I should call myself something else."

"Dark Girl?" Ron said uncertainly.

"I'm not a superhero, Ron. Dark Queen?"

"Only way you could have a more arrogant name than that is if you called yourself the Dark Goddess."

"Arrogance kinda comes with the whole Dark Lady thing," Iris pointed out as she reached into her bag and pulled out a book on Ancient Runes.

Ron jerked his head in a shrug. "Suppose so."

Hermione smiled at Iris when she saw the book, but then the smile faded. "I'm very glad you're reading that, Iris, but have you read anything on Arithmancy yet?"

Iris shook her head lazily.

"Well, you should," Hermione said. "If you want to join fifth year classes next year, you have two years to get through for both subjects."

"Hermione, I really don't give a damn right now."

"But —"

"Listen," Iris said, putting the book down. The dinnerware near her shook. "You realize that in about the last twenty four hours, I've fallen well over a hundred feet, fought through a swarm of bats, brawled a cockatrice, fell _another_ hundred feet from the air while on a hippogriff, only to go up against a griffin with naught but a stick, and then I knocked out two trolls, convinced a horned serpent to not eat me, relived my worst memories, battled a dragon head on, snuck out the aforementioned serpent, Stunned an Auror, and then got only a couple of hours of sleep… right?"

Hermione ducked her head, her neck red. "Sorry, you're right."

"And now my mandrake leaf is getting loose again," Iris said, pulling out her wand and sticking it in her mouth. The older students who noticed this narrowed their eyes, and the younger ones tilted their heads curiously. Iris applied another Sticking Charm and stuck the leaf back up without removing it from her mouth. "That's the fourth time today. Might need to not talk as much."

Ron grinned at her. "Looks like this month will be exceptionally peaceful then."

The next few days, at least, went by peacefully. Iris still hadn't picked up a book on Arithmancy, but she continued to read the few she had on Ancient Runes. She guessed that if she was placed in an Ancient Runes class now, she'd likely still have some trouble keeping up with the third-year class, but that she wouldn't be completely lost. This was really the only thing she studied or practiced outside of normal homework. Hermione insisted Iris learn something for dueling as the rules stated spells like the Cannon Spell and the Blasting Curse wouldn't be allowed. Iris knew a few non-lethal spells, of course, but she seriously doubted she'd stand any chance against Krum.

Iris and Sirius began having nightly chats through the mirror as well. As Sirius spent over a decade in Azkaban, they never ran out of things to talk about, especially since half of the time was spent joking around, not really talking about anything in particular, and this would leave plenty more time in the future for specific topics to be discussed. Iris had to admit she didn't remotely see Sirius as a parent figure; he was more of an older brother or uncle to her, and she was perfectly fine with that. She'd rather not have him boss her around.

Iris, Hermione, and Ron had spent much time at Hagrid's over the weekend. It seemed that both Hermione and Ron were also in need of a break from the chaos of the castle, as the gossip hadn't gotten any better; people still believed Iris to be turning dark, to _be_ dark... and they, themselves, were slowly turning against her... Hagrid was delighted about their visits however. He was frequently seen walking around, beaming, looking happier than ever before, and Iris guessed it was because of their visits and Inigo.

She also kept having urges to ask Hagrid about the heart of the Forbidden Forest, and the shadows just outside it, and whenever she did, there was this slight nudging at the back of her mind, a niggling feeling that wouldn't leave her alone, that told her to go back into the Forbidden Forest and learn what she wanted to know _herself_. Iris ignored this as best as she could.

The mandrake leaf continued to be of great annoyance. It seemed that she needed to place the Sticking Charm back on every few hours. On Monday afternoon, in Potions, it had become unstuck again, but she couldn't have placed her wand in her mouth then. Snape would have investigated, and he would have undoubtedly made her pull the leaf out — not that she had gotten far into the month anyway, but progress _was_ progress. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall, who Iris was most worried about with the leaf, had not yet seen the leaf in her mouth, but that was because Iris hadn't had class with her since before the first task, and when the time would come to have her class, should McGonagall notice, she'd need a brilliant excuse.

As for the golden egg, Iris hadn't made any progress whatsoever on that. She knew she should start as soon as possible, but seeing as the clue would only be useful for a task that was set in late February, she wasn't particularly worried. She felt she had deserved a break after the complete chaos of November. It was hard to believe that she had done so much in less than a month.

Her name had come out of the goblet; she had discovered another basilisk and Salazar Slytherin's portrait, as well as redecorate the new part of the Chamber of Secrets; she had met Newt Scamander, a famous author; she had moved past the meditation on the Animagus process; Hermione had finally learned of her sexuality, and hadn't become awkward around her; she had travelled deep into the Forbidden Forest, met a sphinx, another phoenix, travelled through shadow and darkness; there were Voldemort's memories as well; she had gotten drunk for the first time, and discovered she was a Metamorphmagus while at it; then there was the whole first task, and the freeing of the horned serpent.

Indeed, it was by far the busiest and most eventful month of her entire life.

* * *

It was on the twenty-ninth of November, while she was in Transfiguration, practicing Transfiguring one animal to another, that Iris received news that caused her blood to run cold, Hermione to look at her with concern, and Ron to look as though he had swallowed a grapefruit.

"Potter, for goodness' sake, put that book away!"

Iris startled and looked up from _Ancient Runes Made Easy_. "Sorry, Professor."

The truth was that she was not at all sorry. The last few days had been incredibly frustrating for her, and she had already completed today's class assignment. She couldn't have cared less about paying attention now.

McGonagall's lips were thin as she looked down at her. "That's the third time, Potter. Once more and it's twenty points from Gryffindor, understand? Now, I've some news," McGonagall said after Iris gave a slow nod. "As is tradition, there will be a Yule Ball in late December, Christmas to be exact… This is a tradition that's been a part of the Triwizard Tournament ever since it was created, and it is also a chance for you all to socialize with students from the other schools. The ball will only be open to fourth years and above, but younger students may come if they are invited…"

Iris had a nervous feeling about this as she ignored the annoying giggling coming from Lavender and Parvati.

"Eight o'clock!" McGonagall said sharply, stopping the giggles. "The ball will start at eight on Christmas day, end at midnight, and will, of course, be in the Great Hall. I expect _all of you_ to act like responsible Hogwarts students. Do not embarrass us."

Her eyes locked onto Neville as she said this. Iris frowned at her. How McGonagall expected Neville to gain any confidence by treating him as Snape did was beyond her.

"Dress robes are required," McGonagall continued. "None of you are required to come, of course. If you wish to skip it, you shall be expected to stay away from the Great Hall."

Iris slowly let out a breath.

McGonagall looked at her, then her expression changed, and it looked as though she had just remembered something.

"Oh, Potter, _you_ will be required to attend as you are one of the champions. Make sure you have a partner and are at the entrance hall at least twenty minutes before the ball starts."

"W-what?" Iris stuttered.

McGonagall looked down her nose at her. "Champions of Triwizard Tournaments are required to open the ball, and be the first ones to dance."

There was a moment of silence as Iris processed this.

"No, definitely not," Iris said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I don't dance."

There was a moment of silence, and Lavender and Parvati looked at her in astonishment and horror. Iris was tempted to roll her eyes. She had never danced in her life and she wasn't even remotely interested in it. She wasn't interested in most things Lavender and Parvati were interested in — or most girls, really. Aunt Petunia had made sure she was raised more as a genderless, insignificant entity than anything that would require actual effort, such as being a normal girl.

A part of her faintly flared with resentment for being treated as she was. She was completely fine with not being interested in things like makeup, dresses, hairstyles, ridiculous gossip, and most especially, _boys_. Still, she found it a little infuriating, and oddly amusing, that life was this unfair to her.

"You don't dance." It was more of a statement than a question. "Potter," McGonagall said, pushing up her glasses as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. " I assure you that you _do_. This is tradition. We will be having dance lessons for those that cannot dance, and I expect you to show there as well, or at least have someone else tutor you. I will not have you embarrass Hogwarts by not showing up."

Iris snorted derisively, and ignoring Hermione's pleading stare, she looked McGonagall straight in the eyes. "That's rich."

McGonagall thinned her lips. "Are you trying to be smart with me, Potter?"

Iris was deeply tempted to say, ' _As if you'd know_ ,' but she knew there was a serious line to not cross when it came to Professor McGonagall. Instead, she decided to insult her indirectly. "No, I just think this school has done a fine enough job of embarrassing itself."

McGonagall didn't waste a breath in responding. "Class dismissed. Stay, Potter."

The rest of the class, the majority of which had stopped breathing at Iris's statement, got up slowly, packed their things, and left, most taking a last glance at the staredown between student and professor.

"First, how are you, Potter?"

"Still alive," Iris said dryly.

"I'm pleased," McGonagall said. "Now, why are you acting out again?"

"Professor, I really don't want to go to this ball," Iris whined, dropping all pretense.

"What in Merlin's name could be so terrible about going to a simple ball?" McGonagall asked, sounding exasperated.

Iris didn't fidget in her seat, but she was tempted. She very much doubted skipping the Yule Ball would cause her to be in breach of the magical contract, and tradition wasn't enough — anywhere near enough where Iris was concerned — to stop her from doing so.

But what would she tell McGonagall? The truth? She didn't think McGonagall would be a bigot — but then again, she apparently heavily favored tradition over personal feelings on the matter. As long as the ball didn't involve the magical contract though… well, Iris wouldn't have a single problem skipping the ball, but nonetheless, it would be best to at least try to settle this in a civil manner.

Dozens of different excuses chased each other around in her head, but none seemed believable.

 _I step on too many toes while I dance, Professor. It wouldn't_ — no, of course not.

 _Professor, my relatives invited me over for Christmas —_ but then she'd have to actually go and visit the Dursleys, and she wasn't sure if that would be better or worse.

 _One in a hundred thousand die at balls, and I'd rather not risk —_ she'd get slapped for that.

 _I'm pregnant —_ no, no.

 _Professor, my parents are dead —_ she'd slap herself for that one.

Maybe she could just completely deny it: _Professor, I've really no idea what you're talking about. I'm not even a champion. No, really, my name never came out of the goblet. Are you sure you're not confusing me for someone else?_

"Potter?"

But in the end, she couldn't think of a valid excuse.

"Professor," Iris said slowly, "I just… I'd really rather not go."

"You have not yet given me a reason why," McGonagall said sharply, looking down at Iris, her eyebrows raised in expectation.

"I just wouldn't be comfortable dancing with a boy, alright?"

Professor McGonagall let out a short, sharp scoff. "Potter, you're fourteen. You will not make me believe you still think of boys as…" McGonagall paused here, apparently thinking of a word to use. " _Icky_ ," she finally said in a tone that suggested she considered herself icky for using such a word.

"Well, yeah _,_ " Iris said casually, looking somewhat amused.

McGonagall rubbed her temples with one hand. "Potter, would you _please_ just drop the jokes for one moment? I don't have time for this rubbish —"

"It's not rubbish," Iris said, suddenly irritated.

"You… find boys _icky_?" McGonagall said, looking at her blankly.

"I'm not attracted to boys," Iris muttered under her breath.

McGonagall heard it. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in realization. She did not speak.

"So, really, you'd be cruel to make me have to go to this dance."

"You're going," McGonagall said sharply, having apparently forgotten about what Iris had just confessed seconds before.

Iris crossed her arms. "No."

"Potter, if you —"

"If I don't, you'll what?" Iris said calmly. "Take away points? _I_ _don't_ _care_. I'll win this senseless tournament and Gryffindor will love me at the end of the year like they always do anyway. That's how it goes, isn't it? I lose an absurd amount of points throughout the year, mostly by doing nothing wrong or trying to help someone, then Professor Dumbledore tosses a few hundred points at me for dealing with your school's problems — which, by the way, is the reason I said it was rich that you're telling _me_ not to embarrass the school, as you've relied on your own students to —"

"Potter, enough!" McGonagall snapped, her little fingers twitching slightly in agitation.

"Or what?" Iris said, leaning forward. "You can't give me detentions, points mean nothing to me anymore — there's no reason I should follow along with this school's ridiculous —"

"Do you believe yourself above expulsion?"

"Yes," Iris said bluntly. "Not because I'm the Girl Who Lived. You know very well I hate that ridiculous title, but we both know Dumbledore —" (" _Professor_ Dumbledore," McGonagall said) "— isn't going to expel me anytime soon. Honestly, Professor Dumbledore would probably help me bury Snape's body should I one day finally snap and murder him."

McGonagall took a deep breath. "There are other ways we can punish you, if you feel that the options we have now aren't _enough_ ," she said through gritted teeth.

"Well, tell me when you figure it out."

"Fine! Then let me put it _this way_ ," McGonagall said. "You will make _yourself_ look bad, should you not show up to the Yule Ball. Find yourself a date. You cannot go alone. Ask a boy who's not romantically interested in you, if you must."

Iris scoffed. "And ruin his chance at going with a girl he _is_ romantically interested in? Any boy who would be willing to go as friends would be willing to sacrifice going with someone they're interested in. I'm not doing that to anyone. Besides, would you go with another woman?"

McGonagall's furrowed her brow in confusion. "Elaborate."

"What's the point?" Iris said, leaning back on her chair again. McGonagall took this as a sign of disrespect, for the skin around her eyes tightened with extreme irritation. Iris didn't let her speak. "It's not like my view, my opinion, has ever mattered around here. It sure didn't with the Philosopher's Stone, or when people declared me the heir of Slytherin, or when I told people Sirius Black was innocent, or when I said I didn't put my name into the goblet."

McGonagall stared, not one bit of her twitching or moving.

"The majority of the school believes I'm a Dark Lady in the making, thanks to me being a Parselmouth —" Iris let out a mirthless, bitter laugh "— as if they've just now found out. Know how many times I've been called evil in the last few days because I used Parseltongue to save my own life?"

McGonagall opened her mouth but —

"Nevermind the fact it was to save my own life from a task that was literally designed to kill me — because let's be honest, there's no way one of the task designers didn't want _exactly that_. Nevermind the fact that it was for a task in a tournament I had never wanted to be a part of," Iris said, and though her voice wasn't rising, the irritation was making its way through her curled lips.

She leaned forward again, interlocked her fingers, and looked at the teacher.

"Why is that I'm constantly being forced to jump through hoops for you people? Why in the world should I have to go to this ball when I want nothing to do with the tournament? Why should I care about how much _embarrassment_ it would cause when the majority of the school spends half of its time insulting me? Some school unity, that. You don't think the other schools have noticed how much of the school treats not just me, but both of the Hogwarts champions? One because she's a Parselmouth, apparently a cheat, gloryhound, a dark witch, and the other for simply being a Slytherin. You don't think they've noticed how the staff does absolutely _nothing_ about it?"

McGonagall had paled. Iris wasn't sure if it was from anger or shame or realization, though she doubted it was the last two. Like in first year, when all of Gryffindor turned on her, like in second year, when most thought her the heir of Slytherin, and now, in these last few days, these last few weeks, really, McGonagall had done absolutely nothing.

"Potter…" McGonagall whispered in a deceptively calm voice. "I don't know who you think you are, but —"

Iris laughed loudly, completely disrespectfully.

"Who am I? Whatever," she said, getting up and slinging her bag over her shoulder, the strap diagonally crossing her chest. "I'm not going to some stupid ball. I'm not going to make a fool out of myself for a school that's already made a fool of _it_ self, a school that doesn't have a single boy I'd be comfortable going with. Take away a thousand points from Gryffindor, I don't care."

Iris reached the door and looked back, resentment stretched across her face.

"Who are _you_ to tell me I have no other choice but to go to an event I'd have a horrible time in? After stopping Voldemort from getting the Stone — no thanks to you — after saving Ginny Weasley after you and the others gave up and started speaking of closing the school, after being forced to learn the Patronus out of necessity because the school couldn't keep soul-sucking monsters away from its own students, after being unwittingly thrown into this twice-damned tournament to go up against magical creatures most adults wouldn't dare even _look at_ , much less fight…"

Iris grabbed her hair and pulled hard, ripping out a few strands of hair.

"If you want," Iris said slowly, "take these hairs and give someone a Polyjuice Potion. You have my permission, but you certainly no longer have my respect, _Professor_."

And with that, she dropped the hairs on the ground and walked out.

* * *

"Miss Potter no longer has our respect," McGonagall said heavily as she sat down in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Oh?" Dumbledore said. "And why do you believe this is so?"

"Because she told me," McGonagall said dryly. "She said, in her own words, ' _You certainly no longer have my respect_.' She doesn't care for house points, and I don't blame her. Any Gryffindors that would have blamed her for lost house points are already turning against her simply because of the fact she is a Parselmouth." McGonagall scoffed. "Utterly ridiculous, but nonetheless, there is nothing we have to threaten her with anymore, Albus."

"No punishment to threaten Iris Potter with," Dumbledore murmured, looking thoroughly amused at McGonagall's shudder. "Very well. Send her here."

McGonagall looked at him suspiciously. "What are you planning, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Why, Minerva!" he exclaimed. "What makes you think —"

"Because you're acting like Potter."

"Nonsense," Dumbledore said, waving a dismissive hand. "Now, if you could tell her to meet me here in my office... I must contact Horace."

"Slughorn?" McGonagall said sharply.

"A reward for Iris, should she —"

"A reward?" McGonagall said, her eyes bulging.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, "a reward for her, should she behave. If not, Professor Snape can resume teaching her."

McGonagall didn't leave. Rather, she reached into her robes, withdrew her wand, and a silver cat burst from her wand, and ran right through a wall. Dumbledore looked at her questioningly.

"I want to know the details when you talk to her," McGonagall said pointedly.

A minute later, a silver doe dashed into the room, jumped through McGonagall's head, stopped, turned around, and jumped through McGonagall's head again. The doe repeated this action several times while McGonagall sat there, half-irritated, half-shocked. Then the doe stopped, and spoke.

"I'll be there soon, Professor," said the voice of Iris Potter. "I've just got to get through this lecture Hermione's giving me over being rude to you, not that I regret it, mind you — ouch, Hermione, stop it. Get off! No wonder boys call us psychos — what? McLaggen, that's the third time today. Have you no shame? Shut up, Hermione. Is this thing still recording? Damn it, Dumbledore, you never told me how to —"

It cut off abruptly.

McGonagall shook her head, and her lips were pursed, but Dumbledore was sure it was to stop herself from smiling. "Albus, why does Potter know how to perform that spell? I was under the impression it was a spell _you_ created, _specifically_ for the Order."

"Oh, Iris sent me a letter over the summer," Dumbledore said simply, "telling me she was bored and it was all my fault. She demanded that I made it up to her by teaching her special magic. I thought the Patronus Messenger Charm couldn't be used for any destructive purposes."

"Leave it to Potter to have even her Patronus be irritating," McGonagall grumbled. "Don't smile like an idiot, Albus. There's nothing funny about it. A student who believes she's above the rules and the professors' say, and is right, spells disaster."

"Expulsion does exist, if your demented brain needs any reminding, headmaster," said a voice from Dumbledore's right.

"I do remember, Salazar," Dumbledore said politely. "Expulsion is not an option, however. No, do not ask."

Dumbledore ignored the hissing coming from Salazar Slytherin's portrait and continued conversation with McGonagall until, finally, Iris entered the room. She looked from Dumbledore to McGonagall.

"You told on me?"

"I was mistaken, headmaster," said McGonagall. "I trust you to solve this without me." She got up and swept out of the room with remarkable speed, the doe Patronus at her heels. "Potter! Get — this — Patronus — off!"

Iris replaced McGonagall in the seat at Dumbledore's desk, sighing.

"I take it this is where you come up with a way to keep me in check?"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, smiling down at her. "Just what will I do with you, Iris? Why, you can't seem to stay out of trouble for a week."

"Knew I should have just kept quiet," Iris said to herself.

"Perhaps the hat was wrong in wanting to put you in Slytherin," said Dumbledore, looking not upset, but amused.

"Draco Malfoy is a Slytherin, and he's anything but the traits of Slytherin — so, as far as I'm concerned, houses hardly mean anything."

There was some muttering from one of the portraits.

"And yet, the rivalry still exists as it has for decades — if not centuries — before."

"I don't have a problem with _all_ Slytherins," said Iris defensively. "Just the ones who won't leave me alone."

"Has there been any effort on your part to solve the problem?" Dumbledore asked. "If not all, then surely some might be worthy of your attention."

Iris frowned. "You make it sound as though I believe them to be below me. It's the exact opposite."

Dumbledore smiled. "Not at all! I was simply attempting to steer the conversation back towards the reason of your visit here."

"The Yule Ball thing?" Iris asked, her brow furrowed. "I don't plan on going with any Slytherins."

"Wouldn't you?" Dumbledore said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Then it clicked. She remembered what Aberforth had said about his brother, and wasn't worried about judgement, but the fact that she couldn't even keep something this private a secret from the headmaster annoyed her greatly.

"You're a nosy bastard, you know that?" Iris said irritably.

There was an explosion of noise all around her. The portraits hanging on the walls were all shouting, all indignant and outraged. Iris also heard a deep laughter coming from one of them — Salazar Slytherin. He was certainly awake now, and he seemed to be greatly enjoying himself.

"Quiet," Dumbledore commanded, and the portraits all settled down nearly instantaneously. "Iris, I'm afraid that this is the issue — I know," he said, holding up a hand to forestall the argument that looked ready to erupt past Iris's lips, "I know that you had no malicious intent behind that statement, but nonetheless, I am your headmaster."

Iris had the urge to argue, to tell Dumbledore that he seemed to be involved in her life in all manners that didn't involve school — the Dursleys, mainly — but was never really there otherwise, as shown with the troll, Quirrell, basilisk, Sirius, and now this tournament. She didn't say this however. She was fairly certain Dumbledore knew exactly what she was thinking anyway.

"Now," Dumbledore said, taking her silence as obedience, "Professor McGonagall has told me you don't wish to attend the Yule Ball. She has not told me the reason —"

"But you know anyway," Iris said, not as a question.

"I imagine I do," Dumbledore said kindly, stroking his beard. "I have been the headmaster for many years now, Iris, and I can very easily tell when a student is interested in another. Unfortunately, I'm afraid Miss Greengrass has her eyes set on another —"

"You're using Legilimency on your students," Iris interrupted. This was also a statement, rather than a question.

Dumbledore opened his mouth, looking ready to deny it, seemed to consider his answer for a moment, and then continued as though he hadn't heard Iris.

"But it seems we've hit a little snag," Dumbledore said. Iris snorted at his shameless avoidance. "You do not wish to attend this Yule Ball, and quite understandably, but Professor McGonagall, and I, too, both wish for you to attend. You, however, cannot receive detentions and no longer care about house points." Dumbledore intertwined his fingers. "So."

"So?"

"Something must be done," Dumbledore said. "We could block off access to Gryffindor Tower for you, and you alone — have your room be in the dungeons."

"Let me guess, near Snape?" Iris said.

"Professor Snape."

"You know I'd just end up sleeping in the Chamber of Secrets," Iris pointed out. "It's been completely remodeled — at least the rooms we care about."

Dumbledore nodded, not at all surprised at this information. "True. Very true. Of course, I could always, and quite easily, block off access there as well. However, I do not wish to turn Hogwarts into a prison for you."

"Sir," Iris sighed, rubbing her face. "I'll behave. I'm sure you'd find something that would get me to anyway."

She believed this too. She had no doubts that Dumbledore, a man with nearly a century on her, would easily be able to put her under control through certain restrictions. The Gryffindor Tower was a place she'd like to remain. Chamber of Secrets or not, she'd be sleeping alone if she was barred entrance from the tower. She knew Hermione wouldn't be willing to sleep down there as well. She also still had _some_ decency left, and wasting Dumbledore's time with her immaturity left her feeling a bit guilty and embarrassed.

"No more mouthing off to professors?" Dumbledore asked, his tone half-curious, half-amused.

"No promises in regards to Snape — _Professor_ Snape," Iris corrected.

"You'll apologize to Professor McGonagall? And —"

"No," Iris said, cutting him off. "I said I wouldn't mouth off to professors anymore, purely out of respect for you. But that respect doesn't extend to the Yule Ball. You, of all, people should understand."

Dumbledore lost his smile. He didn't look angry, or even slightly upset. Wary, more like. His eyebrows rose slightly.

"Aberforth," Iris said simply.

"Ah, so you know," Dumbledore said, an uneasy smile making its way upon his face. He stood up and moved to the cabinet which held his Pensieve. "Admittedly, I have never been forced to take a date to a ball… I assume most people simply thought me asexual when I was to show at balls — any social event — without a woman at my side… If only our plights were reversed... "

Dumbledore had taken the Pensieve out of the cabinet now and had set it upon his desk. He leaned over it, looking down into the substance, which was not silver and inky like it had been when Iris first discovered it. It was clear now and looked almost like water.

"But I have to have a date," Iris said, rising from her chair.

Dumbledore held his wand to his temple. "I was once told that one can make no mistakes, but, in the end, still lose. I found this to be particularly true in the war against Voldemort. To some degree, this holds true for our predicaments. There is no mistake to be made with your sexuality, Iris, but nonetheless, you still seem to lose."

He withdrew his wand from his temple, a thread of that silver substance — a memory — hanging from the tip. He added this memory to the Pensieve and swirled it around with the tip of his wand. Then, inside the Pensieve, beneath the surface, the silver substance whirled around, changing color, twisting itself, until it formed into a face: a young man, blonde and blue-eyed, smiling brightly.

Iris looked down at the image. She had no idea who this person was, and from the expression on Dumbledore's face, she knew she wouldn't ask. The man laughed, nodded, looked thoughtful, excited, and showed numerous other emotions. Dumbledore stayed silent as he stared down at the memory. This must've been the man Dumbledore fancied, Iris supposed.

And wasn't that an odd thing to think? Somehow, Dumbledore and a love life never connected in her mind. They were two separate things, never to be involved with the other. There was a long moment of silence, one Iris didn't think to interrupt.

"I had my suspicions about you before Miss Greengrass," Dumbledore suddenly said. "I could see it in your eyes last year… whenever you looked at Miss Granger… Does she —"

"No."

"I thought not. Does she know?"

"Yeah," Iris said. "She knows. I've told her that I've gotten over her."

"Have you?"

Iris shrugged. "Dunno. Part of me wants to marry her, the other part realizes we'd kill each other within a month if we even tried."

"I see," Dumbledore said, taking out another memory from his head and putting it into the Pensieve. Iris didn't get up to check what it was. She had a feeling, though, that Dumbledore wanted her to take a look at it.

"It doesn't hurt as much anymore," Iris said.

"Time heals all wounds, and all that."

"Does it?" Iris asked, cocking her head to the side, observing Dumbledore carefully.

He didn't flinch, grimace, or wince, but there was a small amount of tightening around his eyes. Iris barely caught it.

"You could take a girl to the dance," he said.

Iris nodded. "I could."

"But it would be unwise."

"It would."

There was another moment of silence, in which both Iris and Dumbledore were absorbed in their own thoughts, Dumbledore quite literally. Neither spoke for a while.

"How is your Animagus training going?" Dumbledore finally asked.

Iris opened her mouth to answer, but the question brought forth certain memories — very relevant memories — to her mind, and she couldn't help but blurt out, "What if there's some truth to what they're saying?"

Dumbledore looked at her with a piercing gaze. Iris averted her eyes, not wishing to risk having her mind read. Dumbledore seemed to understand what she was thinking anyway, for his eyes softened and he looked away.

"Forgive me if my memory has deteriorated in my old age, but I believe we've had this discussion two years previously, Iris. You did very well in the first task. That's all there is to it. Using Parseltongue to save your own life is not an act of evil. I would have thought you'd have learned that by now."

Iris let out a breath. "It's not the whole Parselmouth thing this time — at least, not directly. It's connected to it — or so I think." Iris reached into her mouth, pulled the mandrake leaf loose, and reapplied a Sticking Charm to it.

"You are already on the mandrake leaf step?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Iris lifted a shoulder lazily, then leaned forward. "While I was doing the twenty-four hour meditating thing, I… I went through all my memories, but then, after all my memories were done…"

Dumbledore straightened slightly in his chair.

"Well," Iris said," I began to see _his_ memories… only a few," she added quickly. "Five or so memories, the rest were all too much of a blur to make anything out. The five I saw were all brutal. Murders, all of them I think. Even my own mum."

"Who else?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Iris frowned in thought. "They weren't all murders, actually. He had the dead bodies of animals crawl over these two children. Some dark cave."

Somehow, Iris could hear Dumbledore's breathing stop. She looked at him in concern, as though he had choked on a sweet. He nodded for her to continue.

"Watching the memories, I was him," Iris said. "I even liked it. I didn't want to, but I felt some twisted sort of pleasure from it. I don't remember much of the others. Someone who looked like Riddle's father was killed by the Killing Curse — an odd twisted sense of pleasure there too. Some girl being tortured. My mum begging for her life. Myrtle's death."

Iris said this all very quickly, as though letting it all out as quickly as possible would cleanse her… make her normal… unburden her.

"Why did I see _those_ memories? You told me Voldemort put a bit of himself inside of me in my second year, and I imagine this is a part of it. But why _these_ memories?" Iris asked, almost desperately. "Why not mundane memories? Why were they all so horrible? What if I —"

"Enough," Dumbledore said, calmly but firmly. "You said it yourself, Iris. They were horrible. You felt some form of pleasure because Tom Riddle felt some form of pleasure from those acts of evil. Those memories were clearer than the rest not because they related to who you are, but likely because they were strong memories for him. You are a good person. Would you have risked your life to keep the Philosopher's Stone safe otherwise? Ventured into the Chamber of Secrets? Risk your soul?"

Iris stared at her own knees. Should she tell Dumbledore the truth? What she had really felt at times? What kind of twisted thoughts entered her mind whenever the Dursleys, Malfoy, or Snape were especially cruel to her? Question after question buzzed around in her head, each answer coming with its own set of consequences…

"One of these days, what if I'll be pushed too far?" Iris said. "For over three years now, I've been tested. It'll continue. Next year, god, who knows what'll happen..."

"How so, Iris?"

"Just last week, I wanted to make Snape suffer for what he was doing. I — I wanted to put him under the Cruciatus for what he did to Hermione. How can you tell me I'm a good person if —"

"Have you ever been under the Cruciatus, Iris?" Dumbledore interrupted. "No, of course not. I'm sure that if you had truly experienced the pain that came with the curse, you'd feel different."

"Okay, then first year. I was upset, actually _upset_ , that Quirrell didn't suffer more — well, more Voldemort than Quirrell, but still!"

"He killed your parents," Dumbledore said simply, smiling slightly, as though this was rather amusing for him, one of his students confessing to wanting people to suffer horrible, agonizing deaths.

"Pettigrew!" Iris exclaimed. "Even now, I want to throw him to the dementors. I want to _see it happen_. No, don't tell me that's normal — you find dementors disgusting — I do too — but I want to see and hear that traitorous bastard beg for his life! You can't tell me that's okay!"

"Okay?" Dumbledore questioned. "Perhaps not, no. Normal? Certainly. To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised you haven't cursed Professor Snape yet. I have been expecting it for quite a while now. I have told him to control himself, to stop antagonizing you, but will he listen? No, no, but I need him here, Iris…"

Iris's lip twisted in bewilderment and she stared at him. "But — but —"

"Placing you with your relatives has been one of my… bigger mistakes, Iris," Dumbledore said, sounding tired now, and he began to withdraw another memory from his head. "Had I known Petunia would treat you as she did, I would have taken you far away… But alas, despite my own failings in the matter, I assumed family would take care of its own. Had I truly known… placing you in an abusive home would have been the last thing I would have done…"

Dumbledore placed the thought into the Pensieve. Iris couldn't help it. This sudden honesty from him surprised her, but also increased her curiosity. Looking into the Pensieve, she saw — her mouth parted slightly in puzzlement. It was the face of Professor Trelawney. She was younger, no doubt, but still easily recognizable with her large round glasses, her eyes magnified to several times their natural size.

"Marked as an equal," Dumbledore mumbled. "Why, it's easily one of the more foolish things I've done, you see, Iris… but you don't see, not really," he added idly. "How could you?"

"Er — sir?"

"When a child is little and they think there is a monster under their bed," said Dumbledore, "they run to their parents. They see them as infallible, undefeatable. They trust them completely, trust that they are capable of handling whatever horrible atrocity is under their bed."

Iris could see where this was going.

"You never had that," Dumbledore said. "You had to handle his own monsters. And Voldemort is no different."

"Voldemort is no different…" Iris repeated, "as in _he's_ my monster and I've had to handle him on my own? Or… he was raised the same way as me?"

"If you could, Iris, I'd like to see what happened down in the Chamber of Secrets," Dumbledore said, completely abandoning the conversation's direction.

Entirely baffled now, Iris could only stare at Dumbledore in amazement. "Professor, it's a bit late. Maybe we should _both_ get some sleep."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I can assure you I have not finally lost my mind. There are details you might've not shared with me about that night, perhaps you thought them unimportant, but I would like to see them for myself."

"Oh. Er — right."

"It takes some skill in Occlumency to be able to do retrieve the memory. Occlumency is —"

"I know," Iris interrupted. "Hermione explained," she added at Dumbledore's surprised look.

"You will not be able to do it yourself, I assume?" Dumbledore asked. At Iris's shrug, he continued. "If you are willing, I could do it for you. However, it would require me entering your mind and —"

"Nope."

"— organizing it," Dumbledore said. "It could be of use in regards to Voldemort, Iris."

And with that simple sentence, Dumbledore had his wish fulfilled. _Strange_ would have been an understatement if Iris was to use it to describe how it felt having someone else clump together her thoughts. All she had to do was think of the incident in question, and Dumbledore, using Legilimency, would grasp at anything that connected to the memory and toss it all together. It was almost as odd seeing her memory as the silver substance, hanging loosely off the tip of Dumbledore's wand.

Dumbledore placed the memory inside the Pensieve and swirled the contents around again. Iris looked inside it once more too. The memory seemed to play quickly.

Entering the Chamber, her wand being taken by Riddle, the conversation between the two, Iris tackling Riddle and being thrown aside after; the basilisk being summoned, the game of cat and mouse in the tunnels of the Chamber, being dragged into underwater pipes, her holding on desperately, knowing she wouldn't be able to swim back in time, hoping the basilisk would surface soon; then there was the surfacing, the battle with Fawkes, the smashing of the pillars, the sword and the dodging, the sheer force of the basilisk slamming into her, breaking her ribs and sending her back, the basilisk fang lodging into her arm; the dying of Iris; the revival of Iris; the dying of Riddle; the revival of Ginny.

She looked up at Dumbledore's face. It was paler than usual. She looked back down, partly out of shame. She had lied to Dumbledore that day. She hadn't told him of long the battle between the basilisk and her lasted, how she almost drowned, how she was seconds away from dying — she hadn't even told him of the basilisk fang piercing her.

Dumbledore didn't say anything. He didn't even look up at her. He bent over, the tip of his nose touching the substance, and he was thrown into the memory. Iris sighed and followed after him.

 _She stared into the darkness of the Chamber of Secrets, silently trying to fool herself into believing she wasn't frightened. Even with her wand lit, she could hardly see a few feet in front of her. It was as though the Chamber liked the dark, didn't want anyone to disturb it even, and was waiting until she was just far enough into the Chamber to shut the door and shut out all light, even from her wand, leaving her in total darkness._

 _She imagined a shadowy hand reaching out from the darkness and using its long, withered, rotting fingers to extinguish the tip of her wand. The thought sent a strong coldness up her spine. She knew there was a basilisk here, and for some odd reason, despite knowing it could kill her in less than a second, it wasn't as scary — or perhaps scary wasn't the correct word._

 _Unsettling, and unnatural. The thought of the basilisk wasn't causing her to feel unnerved, as though something unsettling, unnatural, and depraved was lurking in the dark. She could almost feel the evil in the air, and as she took step after step, ignoring the eyes of the stone snakes she was sure were following her, the oppressive feeling of something sinister grew._

 _The light on the tip of her wand did not waver, however, nor did it vanish. It remained steady, and though it seemed as though the light was reluctant in spreading, Iris pushed forward, determined to find Ginny._

 _And after what felt like a walk of a thousand heart beats, her wand's light uncovered a small figure, one with sprayed out flaming-red hair. Iris almost leapt at Ginny, and she came to slide against the floor on her knees in her hurry._

" _Ginny?" Iris said in a panic. "Ginny, wake up!"_

"She won't," Dumbledore said quietly next to her, his eyes burning with something — anger, maybe, that this happened to his students. "Not yet."

 _But Ginny did not wake. She remained motionless, pale, and cold, as though she was Petrified — but she was not. Iris could clearly move her. She put a hand over Ginny's heart, but with how fast her own heart was beating, how loud her ears were pounding, she couldn't tell if she was —_

" _Ginny, wake up," Iris said, her voice bordering on hysteria. "Acting class is over, and you're really outdoing it!"_

There was a faint smile of amusement on Dumbledore's lips. Iris looked away, the edges of her lips pursed sheepishly.

 _Iris looked around and noticed the diary, and the feeling of something truly evil, something that felt like an abomination to the world of the living, seemed to be exploding in waves from this diary. She had never felt it before, especially not from the diary, not even when she was holding it… and now, when it was feet from her, it seemed as though it was personally trying to suffocate her in this strange aura._

 _And then, a sound filled the Chamber. It sent shivers down her spine, and she was sure every hair she had on her body had stood on end. It was a whistle. A haunting, ominous whistling tune echoed throughout the Chamber, as though several people were whistling at once._

 _Iris lifted her wand above her head to light up the area, to see who it was, and then — her wand was plucked right out of her fingers._

 _Iris spun on her knees. There, standing in front of her, fingering her wand, was Tom Riddle, looking as though he hadn't aged at all since fifty years ago. He wasn't a person though. He wasn't a ghost either, but rather something in between. He wasn't as transparent as a ghost, but close enough, and his eyes — they were only depthless voids of shadow. He too was emanating the twisted, corrupted sort of feeling._

 _Stuck between two things that were positively — or perhaps, negatively — radiating Dark magic, Iris could only do — well, nothing. This was far beyond her understanding, her skill set, her everything._

 _Riddle spoke then. "Iris Potter… Oh, how I had hoped you would come — I knew you would, of course, what with everything sweet Ginny here told me about you. She has quite the infatuation with you."_

 _Iris could only stare._

Dumbledore, meanwhile, looked on in disgust. Iris wrinkled her nose at the scene, wishing her past self had reacted sooner. Maybe she could have avoided the basilisk fight if she had just leapt at Riddle earlier, while he was still gloating, going on with his villainous monologue.

" _It could, I imagine," Riddle said with an airy sort of half-shrug, "one day turn into an unhealthy obsession, if it hasn't already," Riddle said with a sneer. "As much of a blood traitor she is, she is still a pureblood… and it would be a shame if —"_

" _What are you?" Iris blurted out._

 _There was a small flicker of something in the skin around Riddle's sunken eyes of blackness._

" _You're not a living person," Iris continued. "You're not a ghost either, and I — I can feel you."_

 _Riddle raised his eyebrows. "Impressive. Most wouldn't. Yes, I am neither living nor dead. I am not a man, nor am I —"_

And Riddle finally went on with his monologue. Iris was ready to leave, to tell Dumbledore she was about to do so, but he looked as though a single interruption would have irritated him. She waited until there was a break in Riddle's speech, then she tapped him on the arm, threw her thumb over her shoulder to signal she was leaving, and, after getting his nod, focused on leaving the Pensieve.

But before she left, Dumbledore spoke. "Should you accept Newton's offer, make sure no one knows what the serpent truly is, Iris. It wouldn't do for you to be caught with a basilisk. Not now."

It had to be the dozenth time Iris stared at Dumbledore in either amazement or confusion since she entered his office. She nodded, somewhat absentmindedly. She focused once more on leaving.

"And speaking of serpents," Dumbledore continued, his voice getting quieter as she began to rise from the scene, "well done."

Iris felt herself rising up from the scene, leaving her younger self, Riddle, and Dumbledore all behind — she withdrew from the Pensieve, clutching the ends of it with a whitened grip, thinking. Then, in the silence, a portrait spoke.

"You killed my basilisk."

Iris looked up at Salazar Slytherin. "Your basilisk was a prick."

"A rather long one," Slytherin chortled.

"Oh my god." Iris looked to the rest of the portraits, most of which were trying, and failing, to hide their grins. "Goodbye."

"Wait!"

"What?" Iris said, turning back around.

Slytherin coughed, his lips still twitching. "I need an heir."

"Excuse me?"

"I said," Slytherin said slowly, "I need an heir."

"I wasn't aware portraits needed to breathe," Iris said.

"What in Rowena's desiccated cunt are you talking about?" Salazar said. "What does — oh, by the name of Salazar Slytherin! That other professor, the one that looks like she has a stick up her arse, she was right about you."

"What do you want?" Iris said irritably. She couldn't believe this person was so arrogant as to use his own name in exclamation.

"Like I said, girl, I need an heir. There's that Tom Riddle fellow, but from what I've heard, he's a lunatic. He searches for immortality. This means he won't want to further the line. He believes himself capable of living forever. Foolish, if you ask me. He'll fall eventually, as they all do."

"And if he does, the Slytherin line ends," Iris finished for him. "What does this have to do with me?"

Slytherin's long beard, so much like Dumbledore's, lifted slightly as he smiled. "You are a Parselmouth. Merlin knows how. You are worthy."

Iris's eyebrows rose. "Oh no," she said, turning to leave. "Nope."

"The line needs to continue! If you are to kill my last heir, then —"

"What makes you think _I'm_ going to kill him?" Iris asked, stopping her walk to the door. "And how would that even work? I'm _not_ your heir. I was under the impression that one doesn't just become an heir of a random house."

Slytherin waved a hand at her impatiently. "Parselmouth, right of conquest, powerful enough. Magic would accept you."

"Magic would — have you gone mad being stuck in that portrait for a thousand years?" Iris asked disbelievingly.

"Of course not!" bellowed Slytherin. "You'd need to do a blood ritual, of course."

"A blood ritual? Aren't those illegal?"

"How should I know?" he said, clutching his staff — or was it just a walking stick? — to his chest, apparently having forgotten he was sitting down. "The laws were very different a thousand years back. But what does it matter? You'll need quite a bit of your own blood. Hope you know how to heal a slit wrist."

Iris shook her head to herself, as though in denial. "I'm not — I never even agreed — you heard the conversation between Dumbledore and I! I'm not into men. Even if I was to agree to this, which I have no reason to," Iris added, raising her eyebrows pointedly at him, "I'd never have a child of my own. I'd have to adopt."

Slytherin shrugged unconcernedly. "So do the blood ritual with a kid as well."

"And slit his wrist as well?"

"Well, you would need his or her blood too."

"This is ridiculous," Iris said. "How can you call muggleborns the animals and tell me I need to slit the wrists of a kid?"

Slytherin suddenly frowned deeply. "I _don't_ call muggleborns animals. I called muggles animals. Mind you, girl, muggles were killing us off back then. We had no Statue of Secrecy."

" _Statute_ of Secrecy. What would I even get out of this?"

Slytherin shrugged again. "Nothing at all, really. I imagine any gold I left has long since been dried up. Bragging rights, perhaps. Wait!" he exclaimed, seeing her walk away again.

Iris waved him off and opened the door.

"I can tell you where to find my hidden books!" Slytherin called. "Blood magic! Blood runes! Blood!"

"Don't care!" Iris yelled back.

She made her way back to Gryffindor Tower, pausing only to stare at a painting of a woman wearing loose clothing, the breasts specifically ("Why am I so attracted to these?"), and to help a blonde third-year Ravenclaw get her shoes, which were dangling from one of the rafters. She used a Summoning Charm, then went on her way.


	11. Masquerades and Moonlight

**Disclaimer:**

Just a reminder that none of this story is mine; not this chapter, nor the rest.

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

 **Masquerades and Moonlight**

 **1994, December 2, Gryffindor Common Room.**

"If you don't do what I say," Iris muttered under her breath, her quill scribbling away on the parchment, "I will turn you into a rat, then feed you to my pet basilisk. Wishing we were better strangers, your freak of a cousin."

Hermione watched on disapprovingly.

"There!" Iris said happily, folding up the parchment and putting it in her pocket. She looked over at Hermione. "Why so glum?"

"What did you say he had to do?" she asked, and her eyebrows began waggling uncontrollably.

"His homework," Iris lied, biting back the urge to laugh. She had placed an Eyebrow Waggling Jinx on Hermione an hour before, and though she tried, Hermione was unable to stop it; this was likely because Iris had hid the book that contained the counter-jinx. It was fading now, and the amount of times they began waggling per minute was decreasing, but Iris and Ron found it better when they couldn't predict when it would happen.

"Does he even know what a basilisk is?" asked Hermione, covering her eyebrows with her hand.

"Fear of the unknown, Hermione, fear of the unknown," Iris said, patting Hermione's shoulder. "It'll keep him guessing, keep him on his toes."

"Oi, Potter!" yelled a voice from behind them.

Iris turned around to see Cormac McLaggen. "McLaggen, I swear on my magic, if you ask me _one more time_ —"

"C'mon!" he moaned playfully. "We'll have a good time, eh?"

Iris stood up, pulling her wand out discreetly. "McLaggen, every time you ask me from now on, this will be my answer — _Stupefy_!"

McLaggen dropped to the floor, the goofy grin that he must have thought was roguish still on his face. Iris sat back down, dragging her hand down her face in irritation. The idiot had asked her to the Yule Ball a total of eleven times now. She had lost count of how many times she had been asked in total. Two dozen or so from Hogwarts and another dozen combined from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, if Iris had to hazard a guess. And they weren't all different people; some asked more than once, a few more than twice. _And_ it was only the second of December. It was driving her mad, especially as she still had no intention of attending the ball.

"That's the fourth boy you've Stunned," Hermione said, casually observing McLaggen's form on the ground.

"I've only Stunned those who were too stupid to take no for an answer," Iris pointed out irritably.

Ron flopped into a chair near them just then. "At least you get asked," he said. "I wish I could have a girl ask me. Why do we have to do the work? Say, Iris... you're the type of confident person to do something like that. Why don't you just ask the boy you want to go with?"

"I don't _want_ to go with anyone," Iris said.

Ron seemed mildly disappointed at this. "Well, I'm not even sure who I'd _like_ to go with."

"Go big," Iris suggested. "Go ask Fleur. Cho Chang. Daphne Greengrass. The Patils. Lavender. Hermione."

"I don't think I belong in the same —"

"God, shut up, Hermione," Iris groaned. "Just shut the hell up. No one is calling you a supermodel. When the day of the ball comes, I promise you you'll be receiving jealous looks."

"Greengrass is that Slytherin, isn't she?" Ron asked, his upper lip curling up into a sneer.

"Yes, she is. The blonde. And don't do that," Iris said, looking pointedly at Ron's lips. "You look like Malfoy, and that's the only way you can lose the remaining dignity you have."

Ron snorted. "You're an asshole, Iris. But no thanks. Greengrass is alright looking, I suppose… but…"

"Alright looking?" Iris asked, jerking her head. "Are you mad?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm not into blondes. That Davis girl is nice, I think. Still a Slytherin though."

"Not into blondes?" Iris echoed. "You drool anytime Fleur walks by, you goofball."

"Fleur isn't a blonde. She's silver."

"And Greengrass is gold," Iris said firmly.

"You're awfully defensive, Iris," said Hermione. Her eyebrows were raised slightly, knowingly.

Iris shook her head. "Fine. Go for the others then. There's one here right now. Hermione, sit still while Ron asks you to the ball."

At that moment, Iris could swear that a small flicker of flames shot out of Hermione's nose as her eyes flashed with indignation.

"Excuse me?" she said. "If Ron wishes to ask me, he can do so when _he_ decides to, and _not_ by your command."

"She's right," said Ron. "It'd be weird, wouldn't it? Asking her just because you told me to."

Shortly later, Ron went back to complaining about being the one who would have to ask a girl to the dance. Iris fished more parchment out of her bag and began working on her Potions essay. Ron and Hermione bickered about whose life was easier in the background. Iris did her best to ignore this.

"Girls are lucky," Ron grumbled for the third time. "You've got it easy."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "It's not all that great, you know!"

"Yeah," snorted Iris, "a third of our time is spent bleeding and crying, while boys twirl their cocks around like a lasso, hoping to catch anything that moves."

"Hear, hear!" said Lavender and Parvati loudly from their table, and they both burst into giggles at the sight of Dean and Seamus, who both looked like they wanted to refute what Iris had said, but couldn't seem to find the words.

"Not exactly the way I would have phrased it," said Hermione slowly, still looking at Iris as if she was some odd new creature Hagrid had brought to class. Ron wasn't looking at either of them. He looked to be trying his hardest to not meet the eyes of any girl in the room, in fact, and there was a small bit of pink in his face. Hermione went back to her essay.

"Hey, is there a spell to detect magic?" Iris asked curiously, a little later.

"Okay," said Hermione vaguely, too absorbed in her own work.

"Okay?" repeated Iris. "Perfect. Cheers, Hermione."

"Sorry, what?" Hermione asked, looking up in confusion at Iris's sarcasm.

"I asked if there was a spell to detect magic."

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It would be a silly though, wouldn't it? You'd use magic, so of course it would detect magic. Why?"

"Something Slytherin's portrait said to me," Iris muttered, then more loudly, "It doesn't matter." She tossed her Potions essay back in her bag, only a few sentences having been written out, and pulled out a book on Ancient Runes. "Do you know anything about blood runes?"

"I know that they're illegal," Hermione said through narrowed eyes.

"So they likely wouldn't in this book?"

"They might mention them, but you won't learn how to do them, of course."

"What do _you_ know about them?"

"Well," Hermione said, straightening her back, her lecture tone starting up, "they're considered Dark Magic, and not like the dark jinxes and hexes students here use on each other — _illegal_ Dark Magic. The official term blood runes fall under is called Blood Sorcery, but that's a much broader term that describes any magic that involves the use of one's own blood. It's been dying out over the decades, if it hasn't already."

"But, Hermione, didn't — er — didn't _we_ use blood magic on our trunks?"

"What we did was legal," said Hermione. "McGonagall showed me it, remember? The magic that only needs a drop or two of blood is mostly legal, but most magic that falls under Blood Sorcery needs more than a few drops."

"Is that why it's been dying out? People getting stingy with their blood?"

"Of course not," said Hermione. "It's been banned for a long time for one. I imagine there are some blood runes that don't require much blood and are mostly harmless, but there's some really nasty stuff in that category of magic too. Some of the blood rituals I've seen mentioned in books talk of steep prices."

"What, like sacrificing a virgin?" Iris asked. She jerked a thumb over at Ron. "Wouldn't be too hard to find one."

"Oi!"

"Yes, actually," said Hermione. "Well, I'm not certain, but I wouldn't be surprised at all. You might have to sacrifice an entire unicorn just so your wounds can regenerate a little quicker, or so you can have a better sense of smell or something. Like I said, the price for the smallest improvement is always steep. It's why the Ministry outlawed it. Some wizards would kill a dozen muggles just to be able to stay conscious if they take a single Stunning Spell. Not multiple, Iris, _just one_. The second would take them down."

The solemn tone was ruined by Hermione's eyebrows waggling furiously again. Ron made an odd squealing sound as he tried to hold back his laughter. Hermione huffed, eyebrows looking ready to blast off, and said, "I'm going to the library. You two are so immature!"

Iris chuckled as she left, then was forced to reapply the Sticking Charm to the mandrake leaf, which was becoming exponentially annoying.

"Say, Iris?"

Iris looked over to Ron, a smile still on her face. "Yeah?"

"I — I was wondering — I was just…" Ron began, his cheeks turning a red Iris hadn't seen on his face in a long time, encounters with Fleur Delacour aside. It then hit Iris that she hadn't talked with Fleur ever since the first task. Was Fleur really bitter about losing? Ron coughed, and he looked ready to speak again, but McGonagall entered the common room just then.

She scanned the room before her eyes fell on Iris. "Potter, may we talk?"

One corner of Iris's lip pressed inward as she attempted a smile. "Sure, Professor."

She lifted herself up and followed McGonagall out of the room, ignoring Fred and George who were betting on what she was in trouble for, and pulling out her wand and threatening another Gryffindor who looked ready to ask her to the ball — again. McGonagall stayed silent as she took Iris down the stairs and into the nearest classroom. She shut the door with a wave of her wand, and continued to wave it.

"Privacy charms," she said, taking Iris's look as curiosity.

It was really apprehension. Had she pushed McGonagall too far? Would anyone be able to hear her scream? Iris almost laughed at her dramatic thoughts.

"I need to talk about the Yule Ball, Potter," said McGonagall.

"I don't really think I'd be much of a conversationalist for that, seeing as I'm not going."

"Yes, I know," McGonagall said flatly.

Iris looked at her strangely. "Then why am I here?"

"You — you need to find someone willing to be Iris Potter for a few hours," said McGonagall, her tone suggesting that the sentence was rather difficult to say. She reached into her robes and pulled out a small vial. It had five long hairs in it.

Iris's jaw dropped. "Is that — no way — you actually took my hair off the ground?"

McGonagall looked as though she had swallowed a whole bag of Dumbledore's lemon drops, but she nodded anyway.

Iris couldn't help it, she didn't even try to stop it: she burst into laughter. She couldn't believe it. She had pulled out her hair and suggested Polyjuice Potion mostly as a joke, dropped the hairs as an ultimate sign of disrespect, and yet, McGonagall had sunk so low as to actually go with her plan.

Just then, a boy's head popped in through the door. Evidently, Professor McGonagall hadn't thought to actually lock it. Iris recognized him as a sixth year in Hufflepuff, but she couldn't remember his name.

"Er — Potter?" he said, looking nervous, then he saw McGonagall in the room as well, looking irritated. "Oh, Professor! Right — I — I was just wondering, Potter —"

"Is this about the Yule Ball?" Iris interrupted. "Trust me, you don't want me as your partner. I won't take it seriously. I'll make us both look like fools. I'll be that woman who ends up dying with a dozen kneazles as my only friends — no, seriously, I'm doing you a favor. Go ask someone who'll enjoy their time there."

The dumbstruck Hufflepuff nodded slowly, then retreated from the open door.

When the door closed, Iris turned back to McGonagall. "Looks like we'll need to find someone who's going to make a fool of themselves. Otherwise, that boy's gonna catch on and realize I played him. You don't want to break a poor boy's heart, do you, Professor?"

"Potter," McGonagall said impatiently, "I'm completely certain McLaggen was the way he was in the common room because of _you_. Don't play stupid games with me, I've seen over a dozen students walk to you in the Great Hall only to have to walk back, usually with a defeated look about them. Your numbers are only beat by your fellow champion, Fleur Delacour — and no, I am not saying this to flatteryou."

Iris didn't hear a word of this, as she was beginning to realize that she was running out of absurd excuses to use on boys asking her to the dance. She preferred to use the more ridiculous ones because she thought it was better that they walk away confused and unnerved by her, perhaps even relieved that she had declined, rather than embarrassed and hurt.

There was also something inexplicably funny about seeing the expression on people's faces after she gave her excuse, as though the cogs in their brains were working overtime to think of something to say back to her. She wasn't sure if it was okay that she was making a bit of a game out of it.

One of her more favorite excuses was when she had said, ' _Oh, sorry. I think of you more as a brother._ ' It would have left her feeling a little guilty if she had said it to someone she actually talked to, but to a random fifth-year Ravenclaw she had never spoken to once in her life, it was fucking hilarious.

She noticed McGonagall was still talking, unaware that Iris hadn't heard a word.

"Yeah, of course, Professor," Iris said absentmindedly, making a mental note to ask Dumbledore about using his Pensieve.

"Excellent, Potter," McGonagall said, relieved. "Just make sure she — or… he — is completely willing. Do — not — bribe — them."

"What?"

"Do not bribe them, do not threaten them, do not shove a love potion down their throat."

McGonagall gave her a hard stare before turning around, leaving Iris behind to stare at her retreating form, feeling slightly offended.

She would never use a love potion.

* * *

 **o**

 **Warrington v Delacour**

 **o**

* * *

The day of the duel between Fleur Delacour and Cassius Warrington arrived quickly. The student body grew nearly as excited for the duel as they did with the first task. Iris had the distinct impression that many of them believed they were going to witness some spectacular spectacle. These were mostly the younger students, however, as they looked up to the seventh years as incredibly powerful — and they were, when compared to first years. She was guilty of this as well, at least when she was a first year. In her second year, she realized most students, whatever their year, sucked.

"Who do you think will win?" Hermione asked her as she and Iris sat down in the Quidditch stands. The duel was to be done here. It wasn't a simple stage like it had been for Lockhart's dueling ' _lessons_ ' two years prior. It looked a bit like a mix between a large playground, about the size of half the Quidditch field, and a paintball arena she had once seen on television.

There were numerous large trees planted throughout the arena, each one holding a small building that was built into them, made out of what looked like stone and wood. It looked like some sort of village made of tree houses, and many of these tree houses were connected with others: wide and stable bridges that looked like they wouldn't waver if there was an explosion; narrow and unstable bridges that would definitely sway if a single person stepped on them; there were even a few that Iris wasn't sure could qualify as bridges, as the wooden boards weren't connected to the other wooden boards, and were just hanging by ropes.

There were also several large platforms, all floating a dozen or so feet above the ground, spread around. These weren't connected to anything, however, and Iris wasn't sure what the trick there was, as each of these platforms had walls and what looked like boulders set upon them. It looked as though the champions were meant to use these as cover from spellfire, but unless they were meant to jump onto these from the bridges and treehouses above, Iris wasn't sure what they were to be used for.

It really looked no less than what Iris expected from this tournament — in other words, a death trap. She briefly wondered how many psychopathic tournament designers it took for this tournament to be passed. Maybe they were all lunatics. Otherwise, surely one of them would realize that they were going a bit overboard with the lethality, not to mention all while saying there were safety precautions set in place.

"Fleur," Iris answered, her eyes taking in the entire arena. She wasn't sure if she'd have to duel Krum in the very same one, but it couldn't hurt to be prepared for that scenario anyway.

"You're just saying that because you think she's attractive," Hermione said.

"Yeah, Warrington will be too busy jerking off to defend himself."

There was a moment of silence.

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione asked, sounding interested in the answer.

"Would you like your answer with or without profanity?"

"Without," said Hermione dryly. "Actually, don't answer that."

"Ha," laughed Iris, "you're getting better at avoiding my traps. Where's Ron?"

"I told him to go get us drinks," Hermione said. "I think he needed to get away for a little bit since you wouldn't stop calling him firecrotch. You're torturing him, honestly."

"You'd think you'd be the prude."

Hermione's face twitched with something Iris couldn't identify.

"Yes, well, spending over three years as your best friend does leave its marks," said Hermione. "Ron isn't there on late nights in our dormitory, where you begin listing people you'd see have sex purely out of morbid curiosity."

"That's rather disturbing."

Iris and Hermione turned around quickly. They had thought they were the only ones in this part of the stadium. They weren't, as Cassius Warrington stood near one of the Quidditch pitch tower entrances.

Iris frowned at him. "What did you hear? Hermione, Obliviate him."

"He couldn't have heard anything bad," said Hermione. "Besides, I don't know how to do the Memory Charm."

Iris frowned at her. "Why not? Warrington, find me a new best friend."

Hermione sniffed.

"Aren't you supposed to be down there?" Iris asked Cassius. "It's starting soon."

"In a few minutes," Cassius confirmed. "I wanted to get a better view of the arena. It's unique. Isn't it?"

"That's one word for it," Iris said wryly.

"I heard you two," he continued. "Your performance in the first task had me curious, I'll admit, so I stuck around." Cassius laughed quietly. "I can assure you that Delacour won't cause me to begin…"

"Jerking off?"

"Must you be that crude?" Cassius said, though his tone wasn't biting. "But then I heard something interesting — it seems that one of us might still have issue with keeping focus during a duel with her."

Iris's mouth went very dry.

"It's not what you think," he added. He walked down the stairs to sit near both Iris and Hermione, both of which now had stony faces despite his reassurance. He gave a sort of facial shrug with a quick tilt of his head. "I don't care who catches your eye. Most don't — I'm not really sure why it is that you're so concerned over people finding it out. Most traditionalists would care, I suppose, but they already don't like you. Actually, it's very convenient — for me, at least."

"Why?" said Hermione. "You needed blackmail material?"

"No. I've got enough of that," said Cassius, and he smiled slyly at Hermione — though, Iris had the impression he was joking. "You see, the two of us must go to this Yule Ball whether we want to or not. I've heard you don't."

Iris nodded reluctantly, feeling frustrated — partly because of the Yule Ball issue and partly because the idea of her caution with her sexuality being unnecessary made her feel foolish.

"I'm already in a relationship," Cassius continued. "She no longer goes to Hogwarts — but you might know her, seeing as she was involved in the Chamber of Secrets incident. Penelope Clearwater?"

Hermione looked at Iris questioningly, then turned back to Cassius. "Isn't she going out with Percy? Weasley, I mean."

"She was," he replied. "Apparently, his head got the better of him and he cared more about pleasing the Ministry than he did her. We met over the summer."

"Your time for chatting is running out, pretty boy," Iris said, not really seeing the point of any of this. "What do you want, exactly? For the two of us to protest this? Hold up signs? Sorry, I didn't even do that for that Ravenclaw last year that everyone loved for some reason."

"She was deaf, Iris," chided Hermione. "You know that. And no one asked you to learn sign language, don't be ridiculous. People liked her because she didn't let it get to her. She still got great marks on her exams."

"Yeah, say what you want about her…" Iris said, letting the sentence hang for a moment.

"But?"

"Hm? No, seriously, say what you want about her, she can't hear you."

Hermione laughed, then covered her mouth with her hand. "You're horrible."

"My time _is_ running out," Cassius said, stopping Iris's response to Hermione. He stood up. "I can't find anyone who would be willing to go with me and not try anything — the younger Greengrass sister would fit, but the older, Daphne, said she'd — well, she doesn't want me taking her younger sister. You wouldn't try anything, though, would you? Don't even find me attractive. Would you want to go together?"

"Oh," Iris said, surprised. "Er — well — I'm not — I don't think I'm actually going to the Yule Ball," she admitted. "I told McGonagall she could use my hairs for a Polyjuice Potion, because I'd make a fool out of myself, and by extension, Hogwarts. She told me to find someone who's willing to pretend to be me for the night. Who's Daphne's younger sister?"

"Astoria Greengrass," Cassius said. "You're thinking of talking her into pretending to be you? Could work… if she doesn't already have a date, and if Daphne doesn't figure it out."

"Me talk her into it?" Iris asked, laughing. "Oh, no, the whole reason I'm not going is because I want as little to do with this as possible. You do it."

"And if she accepts?"

Iris shrugged. "Tell her to see McGonagall. But I would like to see if she can act."

"I'll talk to her then." He turned to go, but stopped. "I suppose I shouldn't ask for you to wish me luck?"

"Have you grown tits in the last minute?" Iris asked.

Hermione groaned.

"I should hope not," Cassius said, patting his own chest.

"That's my answer too."

The duel between Fleur and Cassius had already begun by the time Ron made his way back with three butterbeers.

"Need help with that?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I'm not a bloody octopus, so yeah," said Ron, struggling to carry three glasses down the stairs of the stands.

So far, neither champion had managed to hit the other with a spell. They were taking turns playing cat and mouse, making their way from tree house to tree house, platform to platform — which were to be Apparated on, as Bagman had pointed out to the stands after Cassius had left them.

Another disadvantage Iris would have to put up with, apparently. It irritated her immensely. Her regret for treating Krum as she did increased as the duel stretched on. She knew she didn't stand a chance if neither could Apparate, but with only Krum having the ability? Couldn't he just Apparate behind her? She could only hope his Apparition was loud. Either way, it sucked.

"Say, Iris?" Ron said, pulling her out of her brooding. "The Yule Ball is coming up."

"Wow," Iris said flatly, not taking her eyes off the duel. "An impeccable grasp of the obvious, congratulations."

"Don't be an arse," said Ron. "I was wondering — I mean, you haven't got a date yet, do you? And neither —"

"I got a date ten minutes ago. Why? Has someone been meaning to ask me? Tell them no."

"What?" said Ron, startled. Then, a bit more forcefully, "Who?"

"Er — someone," said Iris, not really sure how Ron would react to her agreeing to go with a Slytherin. Then again, it wouldn't really be her. "It won't exactly be me, Ron. Well, I don't know. I might stop by after the opening dance to see what it's like. Polyjuice," she added, seeing Ron's confusion. "I'm having someone else pretend to be me for the night. McGonagall's behind the plan."

Ron's opened mouth didn't seem to want to produce any words. Excited chatter rippled through the stands as Fleur was thrown from a treehouse and onto a slowly collapsing bridge.

"Still, like I just said, I might show up anyway," Iris said. "Think I should get a dress, Hermione?"

"Hm?" Hermione said, not paying any attention. Her eyes were glued to the duel. Fleur and Cassius were trading spells — offensive spell, Shield Charm, offensive spell, Shield Charm, and so on. Iris looked on, feeling unimpressed. Were most duels like this? She doubted Dumbledore and Grindelwald did this for three hours.

"Eh, nothing," Iris said. "Have you got a date yet, Ron?"

"Er — no," said Ron, uncomfortably. "I'll find one. It's no big deal. Who asked you though? Who's going to be dancing with the person pretending to be you?"

"That's a surprise."

Ron didn't look happy at her answer, but he didn't push for more. A moment later, Fleur sent a Severing Charm at the ropes of a bridge directly above Cassius, sending wooden boards raining down on him. He cast a Shield Charm over himself and dove behind cover, but Fleur jumped directly in front of the boulder Cassius hid behind and Summoned several wooden boards that lay behind the boulder. They flew directly into Cassius, and then, with a quick Transfiguration of a few other wooden boards to distract a bruised Cassius, Fleur jumped around the boulder and ended the duel by wrapping Cassius in the cut rope from the broken bridge.

"That's a victory for Fleur Delacour!" Bagman shouted to the cheering and howling audience. "That's ten points to Miss Delacour, pushing her total amount of points to ninety-three! Just one point behind Iris Potter!"

Iris grinned. "Maybe I don't have to worry about winning or losing after all."

"Unless she wins one more duel," Ron pointed out.

Iris's grin slid off her face. "Oh, yeah."

* * *

A few days later, after Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall ended for the last time that term, Ron and Iris were to be found walking to the kitchens. Well, Ron was simply walking wherever Iris was, not really paying attention to where they were going.

"I can't believe she assigned us extra homework," Ron groaned.

"And _because_ it's break," said Iris. "Not despite it, but _because_ of it. I'll show her break," she grumbled. "Break her fucking legs."

"Er — Iris?" said Ron, sounding concerned.

"Listen, Ron, I've got to do something. I'll meet up with you and Hermione in Care of Magical Creatures, yeah?"

"Oh — er — yeah, sure. I'll see you then."

Two Slytherins and more house-elves than she would know what to do with, which was saying something for Iris Potter, were inside the kitchens when she walked in. She greeted Dobby, ignored Winky's wailing, and made her way to Cassius Warrington and Astoria Greengrass.

"This is her? Looks nothing like Daphne."

"It's her, Potter," said Cassius, using his hand to gesture Astoria to sit down. "Not all sisters look exactly alike."

"And she hasn't got a date already?" Iris asked. Cassius conjured another chair for Iris and she sat down in it.

"I'm right here, you know," said Astoria a little testily. She combed her fingers through her black hair as she leaned back, eerily reminding Iris of herself. Astoria Greengrass had a more heart-shaped face than Daphne, and her eyes were gray rather than the pale blue of her sister — not that there was that much of a difference. "Least you could do is ask _me_ that question."

"Okay," said Iris, patting her head. She looked back to Cassius. "So, does she have a date?"

"Wow," said Astoria with a false expression of awe. "Does this mean I have to pretend to be a bitch all of Christmas?"

Cassius leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed, an amused look on his face as he observed the two sitting girls.

"Oh, I doubt you'll have to pretend," said Iris, sliding the pudding a house-elf had just given her across the table to the younger girl. Ignoring Astoria's sputter, she added, "And it'll be just the evening of Christmas — why are you even here if you don't want to do this?"

"I don't believe I've ever met anyone who was able to get off on the wrong foot with people so fast," noted Cassius.

"She knows I'm joking," said Iris confidently. Astoria narrowed her eyes at this, but Iris looked back to her before she could say anything. "So why do this? You're pretty enough to have a bloke or two ask you to the ball."

"Daphne scares them all off," said Astoria, shrugging. "She's super protective. Kinda annoying. But yeah, the only way I'll be able to go to the Yule Ball without Daphne dragging me off the second she sees me is if I don't look like myself."

"Can you act?"

"Is it really that hard to be you?" said Astoria. "All I gotta do is come up with a few creative insults, mix them in with a sarcastic comment, raise an eyebrow sardonically — am I using that word right? — and do that little smirk thing — not like you're being smug or anything, but like you're amused with all of reality and existence. I think I'm missing something..."

"She's observant," said Cassius.

Iris scowled at him. "That's not all there is to me!"

"Ah!" said Astoria. "Yes, that face right there — I gotta use that whenever someone tells me a truth I don't like. Anything I'm missing?"

Iris turned her scowl toward Astoria now. " _Yes_. Don't forget to battle acromantulas, dementors, dark wizards, a cockatrice, a griffin, a dragon, and a bloody big basilisk too. And to be vilified by the majority of the school _for the second time_. And to —" Iris paused, staring blankly at Astoria. Then she narrowed her eyes. "You got me riled up on purpose," she said. "The same way _I_ rile people up."

Astoria smirked, lifting one eyebrow slightly, exactly in the way that once more reminded Iris eerily of herself.

"You brushed your hair back when you sat down on purpose too!" Iris exclaimed, standing up suddenly and gaping at Astoria in half-incredulity, half-wonder.

Astoria's smirk grew.

"Told you she'd do good," Cassius said, looking smug.

"Good?" Iris repeated. "She'll completely ruin what's left of my dignity and reputation!"

"Most likely," agreed Cassius.

Iris's face split in a wide smile. "Brilliant!"

Astoria gave a kind of choked, disbelieving laugh. "You — you _want_ me to ruin your reputation?"

"Well, no," Iris admitted. "But it's the sort of thing that comes with being me. You'd be a failure if you _didn't_ shatter my reputation at a big event like this."

Astoria's eyes suddenly shined bright with anticipation.

"Whoa, hey," said Iris, raising both her hands. "That doesn't mean you should go and try to ruin it. It has to happen naturally, without any conscious effort."

Cassius snorted. "This is the most ridiculous conversation I've ever been a part of."

"You don't hang around me enough," said Iris, not sparing him a glance. She was looking at Astoria as though the younger girl was a protégé of hers, ready to leave her guidance and finally enter the dark, difficult world.

"So, Potter, what are you going to be doing the whole time?" asked Astoria.

"Relieving stress," said Iris vaguely.

"Do you taste good?"

"Find out for yourself," said Iris, offering Astoria her index and middle finger. Astoria looked confused, while Cassius closed his eyes as though to give himself patience.

" _The_ _Polyjuice_ _Potion_ — will yours taste good?"

"Oh," said Iris. "How should I know? Why would I ever try my own juice?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Why would I ever try my own _Poly_ juice?" Iris tried again.

"Dunno," said Astoria. "I just hope it does."

"It depends on the person's nature," said Cassius. "Whether they're a good person or not. The color differs on that."

"Goyle and Crabbe had a disgusting color and taste," said Iris.

"You've taken Polyjuice before?" asked Astoria.

"Yep," said Iris. "Goyle's. Or Crabbe's. I forget. It was _really_ _odd_ growing a —"

" _Nevermind_!" Astoria quickly said, beginning to go red. "So, what now?" she asked, her voice almost sounding like a squeak. "Do we talk to McGonagall now? The ball is only a week and a half away."

"We? What is it with _we_? You go talk to her," said Iris, getting up from her seat. "I've graced the two of you with my presence enough."

"Was that a joke?" asked Astoria, seriously. "I can't tell if you're joking or not — should I say things like that?"

Iris turned to leave the kitchens. A part of her worried about how Astoria would play her, if she'd use the opportunity to do things she might not want to do herself, something that would stick to Iris's name instead of Astoria's. But really, how badly could it go?

She stopped before she walked out and turned around.

"Hey, do you know anyone who needs a date? That isn't a Slytherin, preferably?"

* * *

 **o**

 **God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs**

 **o**

* * *

Christmas day had finally arrived. Iris was happy with herself. She had done almost nothing productive the entire month, and her Firebolt had finally been given to her by McGonagall, fully repaired; she had given it to McGonagall the week before to send in, as she wasn't allowed to go to Diagon Alley; it had only taken telling McGonagall that without the Firebolt, she might not be able to win the Quidditch cup the next year.

Classes had ended, and Iris had thrown the homework schedule Hermione had written her into the fire, not planning on doing any of it. It felt great, especially after November. She had only read from a few books that contained information regarding Animagi, Ancient Runes, and spells that would be of great convenience to her. Her golden egg laid in her trunk, forgotten.

"You're being lazy," Hermione had said to her once in the common room, where Iris was taking up an entire couch, eating grapes from an eager first year; it turned out being labelled a dark witch by the _Daily Prophet_ had its merits. Still, she had to make a mental note to keep an eye on the first year from that point on. She almost responded to Hermione's words, but instead Iris gave her a halfhearted indignant look and shrugged.

After Dobby had dropped by to give his gift to Iris, and to cry over the fifty socks Iris had bought him, most risqué enough to make McGonagall swell up like a dragon ready to breathe fire if she ever saw them, Iris began opening her presents. She had mostly received sweets, dungbombs, and clothing, which she was perfectly thankful for. Sirius had given her a neat penknife that would apparently open any locks and undo any knot. She slipped this into her pocket, promising herself to keep something that handy with her at all times.

Hermione had given her a book called _How to Defend Yourself in Court_ , something Hermione claimed Trelawney had told her would be useful. She said this in a very insincere manner. Iris almost kissed her full on the mouth for how much Hermione was loosening up — would have, actually, if the other girls weren't there opening their presents too.

"Iris, you gave me a… key?" Lavender asked weakly, holding up a rusty bronze key that Iris had found in an abandoned classroom. Then she perked up. "Oh, oh! Is this the key for the locked box?"

Iris smiled mysteriously at her.

Lavender went to fetch the locked box that Iris had given her the year before for Christmas. Quite frankly, Iris was surprised to see that Lavender still had the box. She would have expected both her and Parvati — ninety percent of the people she gave presents to, really — to stop expecting anything good out of her gifts.

"What the — Iris! This key doesn't fit!"

Fay Dunbar snorted with laughter.

"Er — Iris?" said Parvati uncertainly. "Isn't this the present I gave you last year? Did you even — you didn't even unwrap it!"

Iris looked over to Hermione. "You'd think they'd learn by now to not bother."

"You'd think," said Hermione, "that one of these days you'd take Christmas seriously, given that you never really got to celebrate it before Hogwarts."

"I am taking it seriously!"

"Peeves sends his regards?" Fay called out to Iris, holding up a bag of cotton balls. "Are these meant to be… ghost droppings or something?"

"Of course not," said Iris. "They're poltergeist droppings."

Professor McGonagall made her way into the Gryffindor Tower later, wanting to confirm with Iris that Astoria was definitely going to be there. Iris really had no idea, but she told McGonagall what she needed to hear anyway. As McGonagall turned to leave, Iris stopped her.

"How'd you like my Christmas present, Professor?"

McGonagall stiffened for a moment, then walked on out as though Iris hadn't said anything.

"What did you get her?" asked Hermione.

"A scratching post. Figured she'd need something to take all that anger out on, you know?"

Iris's best Christmas present came with Hedwig when she finally returned from Privet Drive. She and Dudley had exchanged several letters, and after Iris explained to him just what a basilisk was, he immediately agreed to send her what she wanted — really, with how stressful the past two months had been for her, it was more what she _needed_.

She, Hermione, and Ron spent most of the morning in the common room or the Great Hall. They all agreed that it didn't feel right to go down to the Chamber of Secrets today, where they would be so isolated from everybody else.

An hour before the Yule Ball started, the three were to be found in their own dormitories, two of them getting ready for the Yule Ball.

Hermione exited the bathroom, feeling exceptionally confident. Looking into the mirror a moment ago, she hadn't been able to recognize herself. Lavender and Parvati, in their own dresses and makeup, both squealed at the sight of her. The two rushed over to get a better look, but the person whose opinion she wanted wasn't in sight.

"Where's Iris?" Hermione asked.

"On her bed," said Fay Dunbar, braiding her light brown hair. "She closed her curtains and said not to disturb her."

Hermione's face fell. "Is she okay?"

"Of course she's not!" said Parvati. "She isn't even dressed yet! Is she going to go in a sweater and sweatpants?"

"Don't worry about that," said Hermione. "Iris will be ready when the time — is that smoke?"

The four girls turned to look at Iris's bed, and they saw smoke making its way through the curtains.

"Should we leave?" asked Lavender. "Last time smoke came from her bed, it was when she —"

"Oh, don't!" squealed Parvati. "I'm trying to forget that ever happened!"

Lavender and Parvati both shuddered in unison.

"I can hear you two! And it wasn't that bad!" came Iris's voice from behind her curtains.

"Wasn't _that bad_?" Lavender echoed quietly. "I heard the clicking whenever I laid awake at night for _weeks_ after."

"You have to admit, though," said Parvati, grabbing Lavender's arm and pulling her toward the door. "It might be a little boring without her, don't you think?"

Hermione listened to the two's fading voices until she was sure the two were gone. But before she could do anything more, Iris pulled back the curtains and left her bed, a fog of smoke behind her. She had a silly sort of smile.

Then she took one look at Hermione and her jaw dropped.

Iris had smothered the fire that lit itself whenever Hermione was nearby — smothered it and stomped on the ashes, all to save their friendship. When she had told Hermione, more than a month ago, that she had completely pushed all those feelings out, she wasn't even sure if she was being truthful. She had put so much effort into not thinking about it that she hadn't bothered to confirm if the feelings were still there or not.

Evidently, they were.

"Should I be flattered?"

Iris raised her eyes from the dress to meet Hermione's anxious eyes. She sighed heavily as she sat back down on her bed.

"Is it that bad?" Hermione asked, running her hands over her dress.

"No," said Iris, putting on a fake smile. God, heartache hurt. "You look great. Honestly."

"Really?" Hermione asked disbelievingly, but looking happy.

"Yeah," said Iris. "I told you, didn't I? Just wait until everyone else sees you. Krum will look hilariously below your league."

"Hm. I feel a bit bad that you won't be there."

"You know I'd have a terrible time, Hermione. Really, can you picture me in some dress? _Dancing_? Nope, I'm good with being and looking lazy."

"Why aren't you going?" asked Fay. "I thought champions were opening up the dance."

"Long story," said Iris, not caring that Fay was there. Fay had overheard many conversations she shouldn't have, but had never done anything about it; she preferred keeping her head down, and being involved with Iris beyond casual conversation would be the exact opposite of that. "Iris will be down there, but _Iris_ won't be down there."

Fay stopped braiding her hair to stare at Iris in confusion for a moment, then she shrugged and returned to it.

"What was all that smoke?" asked Hermione.

"Oh no, I'd rather not ruin your evening by making you angry," said Iris, and she began giggling. It was time for Hermione's jaw to drop now; Iris never giggled. Laugh, snicker, chuckle, sure, but never _giggle_. There was a vague sense of pieces coming together in the back of Hermione's mind, but — completely believing Iris in that her evening would be ruined if she figured it out — she pushed it all out of her head.

"You should go see Ron. Make sure he's getting ready for — who is it again?"

Iris giggled again. "You're worse than me. He's going with Moon."

"Who?"

"Wow, you really are worse than me," said Iris. "Lilith Moon? That Ravenclaw in our year? She has white hair."

Iris's hair turned completely white. Fay's jaw dropped at the sight, and Iris grinned stupidly at her.

"Does white look good on me?"

"You could probably pull pink hair off," said Fay. "This is one of those things I should never mention to anyone, isn't it?"

"Sure is," said Iris. "And what, like bright pink? I don't think anyone could pull that off." Her hair turned into a pastel pink color. "This, though, maybe. Wicked!" she said, both sounding and looking astonished as she stared into a mirror.

"Mhm," said Hermione, applying a bit makeup on. "Iris, leave before I figure out what's wrong with you. Really, get out," she said again, firmly, looking as though she was trying her hardest to ignore what her brain was trying to tell her.

"Fine, fine," said Iris. "I'll go check on Ron."

"Change your hair back!"

Iris waved her off, her hair already changing back to an inky black. She made her way down the stairs into the common room, and then, ignoring Lavender and Parvati's exclamations ("Iris! You're still not dressed!"), she made her way up to Ron's dormitory.

"Ron!" she said happily, bursting into the room without knocking. Dean, who was wearing only a towel around his waist, squealed and tripped backward, his towel coming undone. Iris beamed at him, her hands on her hips. "Wow, and they say stereotypes have some basis in truth."

Dean covered himself quickly and scowled at her. "Iris, what the hell?"

"Oi!" shouted Seamus, throwing his arms up in indignation. "You don't ever make fun of a bloke's prick, alright?"

Iris raised her eyebrows at him. "A lot of experience with that?"

"Piss off, Potter," said Seamus. "We're all still growing here. What are you even doing here?"

"And don't you know how to knock?" called Dean from the bathroom, where he had gone to change.

"And aren't you supposed to be dressed? Don't girls need a long time for that?" asked Seamus.

Ron, who had been sitting in a chair the entire time, eating _something_ , watched on, looking most entertained. He didn't look like he had put in any effort yet. Dean and Seamus weren't dressed either, but they were at least getting there.

"Okay," said Iris. "First, how are you going to complain about my comment on stereotypes —"

"That's not what I complained about!"

"— but then believe in a stereotype yourself? Secondly, it was a joke. I'm sure Dean's packing. If I was into that sorta thing, I imagine—"

"Because he's black?"

— that I'd be pleasantly surprised," Iris finished, glaring at Seamus with such intensity that one would think he had just gifted her hippogriff shit for Christmas — which, coincidentally, is exactly what Iris had gifted him. "Thirdly, what's that smell?"

"You know exactly what that smell is!" said Seamus intensely. "What kind of fucking leviathan shit out that turd?"

"Don't worry about it, mate" said Ron. "She gave dragon dung to half of Slytherin house. You got it lucky."

"Dragon dung?" repeated Seamus incredulously. "Where the hell…?"

"My brother, Charlie, he works with dragons," said Ron.

"You had dragon dung imported just so you could give it to someone for Christmas?" asked Seamus. "And why did _I_ deserve any dung?"

"Fourthly," Iris said, looking at Ron, "why the hell aren't you dressed?"

Ron shrugged. "I've got time."

Iris frowned at him, then noticed the Christmas sweater his mother had given him lying on the ground. "Ron, why aren't you wearing your Christmas sweater?"

"Why would I?" said Ron.

"Sure, just ignore me," said Seamus in a falsely airy tone.

"What do you mean _why should you_?" said Iris, ignoring Seamus. This was oddly bothering her. "Your mum made it. Don't you appreciate that she took time out of her day to make that? I've got my sweater on."

"You hardly ever wear my mum's Christmas sweaters!" Ron protested.

"Yeah, 'cause it's hardly ever Christmas," said Iris, looking at Ron as if he was stupid. She waved a hand at him to dismiss Ron's next comment before it even slipped past his lips. "Fifthly, where's Neville?"

"He's already gotten dressed," said Seamus. "The pal's sure excited, I'll tell ya."

"Don't blame him," said Iris, and she noticed Dean reentering the room. "He's going with Ginny. She's a looker. Say, Dean, didn't you once say you'd shag her brainless?"

"What?" said Ron, alternating his stares from Iris to Dean, Dean to Iris, repeatedly

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Iris laughed. "I'm just kidding, Ron," she said, discreetly winking at Dean. "But seriously, go get dressed or I'll continue talking about your sister getting shagged."

"Right," said Ron, rising to his feet instantly. He grabbed dress robes from his bed, scowled at them, and made his way to the bathroom.

"Who's Ron going with again?" asked Dean.

"Lilith Moon," said Seamus. "You know, that white-haired Hufflepuff?"

"Ravenclaw," corrected Iris.

"That quiet one?" asked Dean. "Thought she was in Slytherin."

"Do you really think Ron would go to the ball with a Slytherin?" said Iris. "She's in Ravenclaw."

"No," said Seamus slowly, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure she's a Hufflepuff."

"She's _not_ , you walnut," said Iris. "I talked to her. She had Ravenclaw colors."

"Yeah, she's a Ravenclaw," said Ron as he came out of the bathroom, wearing something that Iris considered an abomination to reality.

"I thought you were going to get dressed for the ball?" Iris said, eyeing Ron's dress robes with ill-disguised revulsion.

Ron scowled at her. Then he pulled on the lace of his robes with a thoughtful expression. "Think I could use a Severing Charm on these horrible parts?"

Iris continued to stare at his dress robes.

"Should he feel creeped out or flattered with the way you're staring at him?" said Seamus, holding back a laugh.

"I can only hope he doesn't feel flattered," said Iris flatly. "What in the bloody hell are you wearing, Ron?"

"Bugger off," Ron muttered, pulling out his wand and heading back to the bathroom.

Iris shook her head slowly, watching him go. "Poor Lilith." She looked at Dean and Seamus, a calculating look in her eye. "Hey, could you two do something for me?"

"No," said Seamus at the same time Dean said, "Sure."

Seamus glared at Dean, looking betrayed.

" _Sure_? Why do you want to help her after that hippogriff shit she gave me for Christmas?"

Iris smiled at Dean. "Because he's my —"

"Don't say it," Dean said, pointing a warning finger at her. "What's the favor?"

"Right," said Iris, "if you see me acting like a complete fool at the dance, come and straighten me out, alright? If I refuse to listen, just tell me that you two know the secret and that you'll get Daphne if I don't stop."

Dean and Seamus both looked at her with baffled expressions. "What?"

"Things might get a little wild, alright?" said Iris. "Just say that if I begin embarrassing myself."

"I know the secret and I'll get Daphne if you don't stop," said Seamus.

"Oh, piss off, Seamus," said Iris and she turned to leave.

* * *

 **o**

 **The Yule Ball**

 **o**

* * *

Fleur Delacour looked over the Great Hall, now unrecognizable, and took in everything — the decorations, from silver frost covering the walls to lantern-lit tables, all of which created an atmosphere that was pleasant enough, perhaps even cozy, if she dared admit it; the students from all three schools, many of them looking very excited about the ball, something that brought a smile to Dumbledore's face, she noticed; and then there were the top table she was sitting at, sharing it with Madame Maxime, Albus Dumbledore, Igor Karkaroff, Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch, and the three other champions, each with their own partner.

Though, Cassius Warrington and Iris Potter seemed to have chosen each other, something she found slightly surprising, and admittedly, amusing. And by the looks on many of the Hogwarts students' faces, they hadn't been expecting it either. That Ronald Weasley was ignoring his date, a white-haired girl, and glaring at Iris from his table.

Fleur wished that Iris would take her eyes off her partner and talk to her, as her date, Roger Davies, was completely pathetic. Did Iris make friends with all sorts of people and then just stop talking to them? Was she just another one of the hundreds Iris had hopped to, joked around with, then hopped away from?

Another surprising pairing was that of Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum. But she could hardly say she knew Hermione enough to tell herself that it was a _big_ surprise. She looked over to Iris, who had sat down next to her. She couldn't help but be surprised again. She had heard a rumor that Iris was against attending the ball. Also surprising was that her and her apparent best friend, Hermione, weren't talked to each other at all.

"Enjoying the meal?" Dumbledore said, leaning over to Iris. Fleur kept the two in the corner of her eye, but made herself look as though she was paying attention to Roger — soft, quite laughs, faint smiles, nods, and the like.

Iris looked up at him, surprised. "Er — yeah, sure — I mean, yes, sir," she corrected herself, looking slightly alarmed.

Dumbledore looked a bit puzzled by this behavior, as was Fleur, but she didn't dwell on it. Iris was nervous about all this, it appeared. She wasn't acting like her typical self, which Fleur had admittedly found refreshing. She had a feeling Iris wouldn't care in the slightest about her haughty laziness, if it wasn't directed at her, and these two reasons were why she was hoping to get to talk to her tonight.

"So what made you change your mind, Iris?" Dumbledore said in a quiet voice.

"Huh?" Iris said, looking confused.

"You were quite adamant on not attending the ball, and yet, here you are," said Dumbledore, smiling down at her.

"Oh, I — er — I just thought it'd be a good time, you know?" said Iris. "What else was I going to do, you know? Spend my night in my dorm, all alone, sulking?"

Iris smiled at her own words, a smile Fleur recognized as a sign that Iris was thinking about something mischievous, and likely insulting.

Dumbledore hummed in approval as Iris lifted a goblet to drink her pumpkin juice. He leaned in closer, and whispered so quietly that Fleur had to strain her ears to hear it: "And have you considered Newton's offer? Will you take the basilisk?"

Iris choked on her juice, and it came spilling out all over the front of her dress.

"W-w-what?"

Dumbledore took out his wand and Vanished the juice, leaving the dress looking as though it hadn't had anything poured over it.

"Oh, not now, Iris," said Dumbledore casually. "Our neighbors are attempting to eavesdrop on our conversation."

Bagman looked away, abashed, but Fleur only shrugged at Dumbledore's gentle smile.

"Anything to make Iris spit out 'er drink must be shocking," Fleur said. "I 'ave seen 'er appear out of thin air with a phoenix and walk right into the Forbidden Forest as though she owned it. I was only curious as to what surprised her."

 _A basilisk_?! Fleur thought frantically. _Quelle est cette merde erreur de la nature_?

Fleur turned away to continue talking with her date, Roger Davies, while Dumbledore took in this bit of new information with disguised surprise. When had Fawkes Flamed Iris? More importantly, _where_ had Iris been Flamed to? He wasn't sure if he should be concerned with this either. On one hand, Iris was showing enough loyalty to him that Fawkes was willing to take her places. On the other, Iris may have a way to get around the country.

He nearly shuddered.

He turned his attention to the others, letting Iris talk with someone more her age.

Barty Crouch. Something was off with Barty, but he didn't know what. He didn't dare attempt Legilimency on Barty. Dumbledore caught him glancing at Iris every now and then. Was he still of the belief that Iris had put her name into the Goblet of Fire herself? Surely not. If the way Iris behaved in the first task, the things she said, were of any indication, it was quite obvious that she hadn't wanted anything to do with the tournament.

Then again, she had told Rita Skeeter she would win.

And as the Yule Ball went on, he began to suspect that Iris was acting oddly as well. Had Cassius Warrington taught her how to dance or was she just a natural, as she was in many aspects of magic? And when had they even gotten close enough to consider being each others' partner?

 _Very odd, indeed._

And the more he had talked to her, the more confused he had gotten at her behavior. He glanced over at Professor McGonagall, who looked to be avoiding his eye. But every time she looked over at Iris, a small, pleased smile appeared on her lips.

Almost an hour into the ball, he saw Iris pull out a vial, full of a silver substance with a slight blue glow to it, pour it into her empty goblet, and drink it.

Then the pieces fell together.

It wasn't Iris. Who, he hadn't the foggiest, but this must've been what Professor McGonagall had spoke of. He was a bit disappointed, if he thought about it. He had thought that this was really her, acting maturely.

And then there was the silver color of the Polyjuice Potion. The color put little behind Iris's words, her fears, that she spoke of nearly a month ago. If silver meant something dark, she would have thrown Draco Malfoy from the Astronomy Tower by now. And the blue he had seen in it, surely blue wasn't anything terrible. Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe there was more to silver than gray. Maybe Iris had done more questionable things that he simply didn't know of. Maybe now wasn't the time to think about this.

He turned his thoughts back to the ball, and the hours sped by.

* * *

"I couldn't have — no, not that much," said Iris, taking in the scene before her. She stood, beneath her Invisibility Cloak, to the side of the hall, her eyelids drooping, her head shaking slightly at how bizarre it all was.

Ron and Hermione were currently having a row. She couldn't hear what they were saying, as they were whispering, but it was a rather furious kind of whispering. Hermione looked livid. Ron was bordering on looking like a lunatic with his bulging eyes and red face. Cassius and Astoria, still Polyjuiced as Iris, were walking toward the direction of the dungeon. Dumbledore was standing near the entrance of the Great Hall with Fawkes, looking as though he was giving a lecture to the phoenix. Meanwhile, Barty Crouch was standing in the shadows, in a corner only Iris could see, watching Astoria and Cassius walk away.

Iris whipped the Invisibility Cloak off of her, no longer caring about appearances, and Hogwarts, and reputation, and all that bollocks. She threw it off at the same time Cassius and Astoria were passing her.

"Potter!" Cassius said in surprise, while Astoria jumped in fright. Iris didn't like how she looked, scared and all. As far as her stoned brain was concerned, Iris Potter was _never_ scared. She refused to think of the time with Fluffy — the first and second time; or Quirrell; or the Chamber of Secrets; or the dementors; or the Forbidden Forest — the first, second, and third time; or the first task.

Iris nodded. "Warrington. Thought you should know Barty Crouch is following you."

Cassius and Astoria both turned around. Barty Crouch turned a corner a second later, looking to be in a hurry.

Astoria turned back to her, still wearing her face. "Should you be out here? We were the last to leave, but still, you're dressed in — whatever those are — and a sweater."

"They're called joggers, you filthy pureblood," said Iris. "Or sweatpants. Whatever you prefer. Can you get my face off your face?"

"You alright, Potter?" he asked, looking over her with a frown.

"Fine, why?"

"Your eyes are bloodshot."

"I'm super high," Iris said bluntly. "I understand Dudley now. I understand the world, really, and it's shit. I think he laced this with something. I'm coming down now, but I was up in my dorm freaking out. I thought Crookshanks was a nundu."

"I don't know what half of what you just said means," said Astoria, whose face was now transforming back into her own, "but I got enough to know you're on drugs."

Iris shrugged. "You've no idea what I've been through in the last month. I needed a break, alright? It's not like it's cocaine."

"Yet," snorted Cassius.

"Cocaine?" asked Astoria.

"Where the hell would I get cocaine?" said Iris. "Surprised you know what that is, though."

"Hey, Astoria's the filthy pureblood," said Cassius. "I know something about the muggle world. At least, enough to know how to easily make money in it."

"Don't worry about it, Greengrass," said Iris when she saw Astoria open her mouth. "I hope you two enjoyed your time, but you might want to make your way back to your room before your sister rips Warrington's balls off and feeds them to —"

"Yeah, listen, Potter," interrupted Astoria. "That's an Invisibility Cloak, right? Do you think I could —"

"No," Iris said, and she pushed past the two.

"By the way," Astoria called, "someone owes Lilith an apology for Weasley!"

Iris spun around, giving a double thumbs up to her. "I'll deal with firecrotch, don't worry."

"Hey, Potter?" said Cassius. "Listen, I never got to thank you. I know Penelope wasn't dying or anything, but you still killed that monster," he added at her puzzled look. "I heard a rumor Voldemort was somehow involved, so I've no doubt that she could have died. So thanks."

"You said Voldemort," Iris noted.

"That's all you got out of that?" Cassius said flatly. "It's not as though Voldemort can hurt me now. What's the harm in saying his name?"

When Iris finally reached Hermione and Ron, who were somehow still arguing, there were only them three in the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron both looked furious with each other as they stood outside the entrance hall.

"Well, if it isn't Tom and Jerry!" said Iris, announcing herself to the two. "Do you two ever stop trying to torment each other? Oh, I'm sorry," she added when the two turned their glares on her, "did the beginning of my sentence interrupt the middle of yours?"

"Not — now — Iris," said Hermione through gritted teeth.

"Nonsense! 'Tis the time to be jolly! Or however that goes," Iris muttered to herself. "You two look like you were having the time of your —"

"Shut up, Iris!" said Ron. Iris pouted, but it didn't dissuade Ron from turning on her. "You too, actually! Both you and Hermione! Unbelievable!"

Iris looked to Hermione. "What's firecrotch talking about?"

Ron exploded. "Stop — calling — me — that!" he bellowed at her. His whole face and neck was red. Why he was yelling at her, Iris had no idea, but she didn't like it. She hadn't done anything wrong, had she? She went over the last twenty-four hours in her head, reviewing anything that had the capability of upsetting Ron. This was the wrong thing to do, apparently, as Ron took her expression as her ignoring his continued stuttering yelling — which, really, she was doing.

Hermione took a deep breath and spoke before Ron could continue. "He's upset because I went with Viktor Krum, Iris. Now go away, this isn't your business."

Iris promptly ignored that and turned to Ron. "Why would you be upset about that?"

"What?" Ron said, looking furiously bewildered. "Krum! She wouldn't tell us who she was going with this whole time — and then — Krum!" He looked beyond words now.

"I knew she was going with Krum," said Iris. This was also, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

"What? You — you — _you_? You!" Ron said, seething. "Warrington! A Slytherin! A Durmstrang student and a Slytherin!"

Iris snorted, but there wasn't much humor behind it. "Calm down, Ron. You know that wasn't me."

"Bullshit!" said Ron. "No one's that good of an actor!"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "Look at her! She's wearing a sweater and — she looks exactly like she did before the ball!"

"She changed quickly then!"

Iris watched the two scream at each other for a little more, feeling like her high was coming down much quicker than it should. Ron was being a bit ridiculous. How was it her fault if Astoria did a good job being her? Could she really done that well of a job? She thought it a good idea to ask.

"Did Astoria do that good of a job?"

"What? Who?"

"Astoria. Astoria Greengrass, the person who was Polyjuiced as me."

Ron's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Then he found his words. "You picked a Slytherin for your date and another Slytherin to be you?"

"It's hardly having a Slytherin as my date if it wasn't even me," said Iris impatiently.

"Oh, don't bother!" said Hermione. "He treated Lilith Moon horribly! She clearly isn't the type to stay quiet, so she told him how he was acting! He's just taking his anger out on us."

"I am not!" said Ron, growing even redder in the face, a feat Iris didn't think possible. "That — that has nothing to do with anything! First, I ask you, Iris! But no, you'd rather pick a Slytherin — the Slytherin champion!"

"What the hell does that mean?" said Iris. "Ask me what?"

"And then I ask you, Hermione" continued Ron, not answering her question, "and you pick someone who studies the Dark Arts! The Durmstrang Champion! To the ball!"

"You didn't ask me to the ball," said Iris, her face growing stonier. Then she cracked a smile at her own thoughts.

 _Heh, stonier._

"You think it's funny?!" Ron bellowed at her, covering her in spit.

Iris's smile was wiped off her face just as slowly as she wiped the spit off her face. "What the _fuck_ , Ron? What's your fucking problem?"

"Both of you! You make fun of my dress robes, go with a bunch of dark people to the ball —"

"Neither of us went with dark people!" Hermione said in frustration.

"— and then it's poor Moon, poor her, having to go with the bloke who can't afford some decent robes!"

"Ron, it's not like that," Hermione said desperately. "But you can't take your anger out on —"

"Are you kidding me right now?" Iris interrupted, earning a fierce glare from Hermione. "We _always_ insult each other, Ron. That's just what we do."

"Well, this time is too far!" said Ron, and he attempted to rip apart his dress robes from the collar, but it wouldn't tear. He growled in frustration. "Durmstrang — Slytherin — champions — unbelievable — they're just going to use you!"

"What is this obsession with them being champions?" asked Iris. "Is that what this is about? Hermione and I had two champions as partners, and you didn't? If it's that big of a deal, I can go talk to Fleur about giving you dance — though I doubt she wants to get her dressed ruined by drool."

Ron's eyes flashed with fury. "Fuck you, Iris," he spat. He turned and walked angrily away, attempting to rip up his dress robes the entire time.

"Too far?" said Iris once Ron had turned a corner. "I know I'm a bit of a moron sometimes, but —"

Hermione snorted.

Iris stopped speaking. "What the hell are you snorting about?"

Hermione paused for a moment, but spoke anyway, a dismissal, mocking tone to her voice. "How _haven't_ you figure it out already?" she asked. "He _fancies_ you. _I_ thought it was _incredibly_ obvious, but you somehow stayed oblivious."

Iris sputtered.

"And then he had the nerve to come to me and say, ' _Hey, you're a girl, Hermione_!'" Hermione added angrily. "That doesn't mean I want to be some second choice he sees at a moment of desperation, just because the most beautiful girl was taken!"

"Oh, bloody hell," moaned Iris. "Not this again, Hermione."

"Iris, shut up!" Hermione snapped.

"What the — are you — you've got to be —"

"No, really, how?" said Hermione. "Why haven't you told him anyway? Maybe he'd get over you quicker. He might be an idiot, but he's not a bigot."

"Seeing as he's acting this way about this whole Slytherin thing, I seriously doubt it he's not both," she said. "And _rich_ , calling _us_ the only idiots," she shot at Hermione. "You know I like girls, that I don't pay attention to boys, how the hell would I have been able to figure it out? Seems Miss Doesn't-Know-When-To-Shut-The-Fuck-Up has moved past her prime."

Hermione let out a high-pitched, nearly out-of-control laugh, looking on the verge of tears.

"Do you fancy Ron or something?" Iris suddenly asked. "Is that what this bloody thing is? Some kind of twisted, fucked up love triangle?"

"Will you stop using that language?!" Hermione screeched, sounding an awful lot like an air raid siren.

"What? No, fuck off. Why are you even yelling at me?" Iris said angrily, raising her voice. "Just because you've got insecurities doesn't mean you get to take your anger out on me. If you want his attention so bad, squeeze your tits or something — they're bigger than mine — his blood will rush south so fast he'll pass out."

Hermione definitely had tears now, but whether it was from anger or pain, Iris wasn't sure. The two of them stood in the hall, glaring at each other. Iris was fighting herself to not breathe hard. She did not want to seem as though the absurdity and injustice of this whole argument was getting to her.

"And thanks for ruining my high too."

Iris swatted a beetle out of the way and pushed past Hermione, heading for the front doors, needing to get fresh air now, to get away before she said something that would be one step too far.

" _High_?" she heard Hermione say. "Iris, you did not!"

Iris heard Hermione running after her, and she twisted around, an insult she knew to be horrible on the tip of her tongue, but Dumbledore stepped out of the Great Hall, Fawkes on his shoulder, and stopped Hermione.

"Miss Granger, perhaps it would be best if we all went our separate ways for tonight, to calm down."

Hermione looked furious, but her anger didn't extend far enough to defy an order from Dumbledore, even if it was phrased as a suggestion. She turned around and walked away — nearly ran, more like.

"Quite the argument," said Dumbledore.

"Was I in the wrong there?" Iris asked him, finding it hard to believe that an argument such as that had just taken place. She was breathing harder than usual now.

"Oh, I don't think I'm in the position to comment on such matters," Dumbledore said. "They were both upset and your… sense of humor just wasn't appreciated, I'm afraid."

"Right. Er — sir, the moon's showing a third quarter tonight."

"Ah, the next step to become an Animagus?" Dumbledore said, and Iris nodded. "When did you begin on the first step, if I may ask? Or have I already asked? Sometimes I forget."

"When school started, so the beginning of September. Sirius told me I might as well start on the meditation thing even if I don't have what's necessary for the rest of the steps."

Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought and stared out into the grounds. "If you're lucky, I dare say you might finish the process by the end of February. I'm not sure if I have ever heard of an Animagus who become so so quickly. Any ideas as to what you might become?"

"I dunno," Iris admitted honestly. She hadn't really thought about it much. She had looked through the book _Spirit Animals and What They Mean_ , but she hadn't found any animal that matched her perfectly. Then again, she hadn't been that focused that day. Hermione had said a bird was likely — a red-tailed hawk, a raven, or a golden eagle — and not just because she loved flying; Iris couldn't remember the other reasons. She would have to look through the book again tomorrow, and really pay attention this time.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you will find a use for it," said Dumbledore. "I appreciate the Christmas gift too, Iris, but I think you misunderstood me that night — when you asked me what I, myself, saw in the Mirror of Erised," he added. "I'm afraid I said wooly _socks_."

"Ah," said Iris. "See, that's what I thought you said. But with what Aberforth told me, I thought I _did_ mishear, and that you said wooly —"

"Quite an understandable mistake," Dumbledore interrupted, and if he was younger, Iris was sure he'd be blushing by the tone of his voice.

"You could just cut a hole to make them socks," said Iris. "Hope you enjoy them either way."

"I shall cherish them forever."

Iris laughed at his deadpan delivery.

"Would you like to use Fawkes once more?"

"Once more?"

"To find yourself a roof to place the vial on," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Miss Delacour said you appeared with a phoenix in front of her. Fawkes denies it, of course, but I believe he has a soft spot for you."

Fawkes let out a low, annoyed sounding kind of bark, and glared at Iris. The mischievous smile _Dumbledore_ grew to be wary of crept up on Iris's face.

"I'd love to use Fawkes, sir. Come on, Fawkes," she said, and Fawkes grudgingly hopped to Iris's shoulder. "Fire me up, Fawkes, and maybe I'll smoke you up."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, to find out what Iris meant, but she disappeared in a small explosion of flames.

Minutes later, Iris removed the mandrake leaf from her mouth and placed it in a vial containing a single hair of hers, wondering if there could have been any effect on the mandrake leaf from her actions today. Would she become instantly high every time she transformed into her Animagus form? She had read of mutations, negative and positive, occuring due to certain things happening during some of the Animagus steps. She wasn't sure if this would be a blessing or not.

She reached up to her hair, which was in a bun, and pulled her wand out from it. Applying a Sticking Charm to the vial, she placed it on the floor — roof? — of the top of the Owlery, which was the highest tower with the exception of the Astronomy Tower. But as students used the Astronomy Tower, she didn't feel it would be smart to place the vial there. Thankfully, the Owlery roof wasn't cone shaped.

Iris twisted on her knees and sat down, hugging her knees, staring into the distance. Even at night, the view was quite beautiful. Thoughts of the argument she had just had with Ron and Hermione swam up to the front of her mind. She still didn't believe she had done anything wrong. She had only joked a bit, only to try and diffuse the situation, to lighten the atmosphere a bit in hopes that Hermione and Ron would calm down. She didn't think any of their previous arguments were as passionate and insulting as this one. Both Hermione and Ron were more red in the face than Iris had ever seen.

And Ron. Did he really fancy her? It made her feel uncomfortable. She had assumed she was like a sister to him.

She flicked her wrist and out came a long stemmed, wooden pipe, where her wand would normally be held. It was ten inches long — or at least, Iris thought so. She couldn't exactly remember how long Quirrell's wand was.

A bit morbid, one might say. Iris, however, considered it the best thing she had ever done — smoking out of a pipe made partly from the wand of a man she had burned to ash. Badass, she might say, not morbid.

Hilarious, too.

She had only smoked once before, the summer after her second year, and that had just been from a blunt given to her by Dudley after she threatened to turn him into a street lamp. As a result, she hadn't been sure how much would get her as high as she'd like to forget the hell she had gone through in the last two months. Evidently, she should have smoked more.

She held her pipe out to Fawkes. "Mind lighting that, Fawkes?"

Fawkes lifted a single wing, and a single feather at the tip of it flickered with a flame, lighting her pipe.

"Take the first hit?" Iris offered, grinning at him.

Fawkes took one last look at Iris before he Flamed away, leaving Iris alone on the Owlery roof, no easy way down in sight.

"Don't think he likes me," Iris mumbled, and she put the pipe to her lips and inhaled. She looked out at the scenery once more, and she found that this — the view, the pipe and whatever its contents were, and the cool air, which wasn't nearly as cold as it should have been for a winter night, all of it, was much better than going to the Yule Ball could have been.

She exhaled, the smoke fading away into the night.

Melancholy washed over her. It couldn't be helped. She was alone, looking over a dark castle with only but a few lights glowing behind the windows. If anything, it made her feel more isolated, knowing there were people there, but that she couldn't reach them. She brought the pipe to her lips again, and inhaled. The smoke filled her lungs, memories filled her mind, and then both were gone.

She hung her head. It was as though something always had to happen, wasn't it? This month had gone by relatively peaceful when compared to November — at least until now. Ron and Hermione would surely make up, as they always did — but would she need to make up with them too? How could she? She wasn't even sure what she would say to Ron now, not after what Hermione had said, if it was true.

Looking back on it now, it did seem obvious.

And speaking of fancies, Iris found that the feelings she held for Hermione were now gone. Perhaps they'd return, but perhaps not. If this was all it took to ruin something like that, she figured she should get into an argument with Daphne Greengrass soon, since _that_ was unlikely to ever happen.

"Damn it," she muttered. Everything did always seem to happen to her. It was beginning to get a bit maddening. There was no point in sitting here and moping about it, though. She lifted her wand. " _Accio_."

There was a distant sound of shattering glass, but Iris couldn't find it within herself to care, and then a rushing sound as her Firebolt sped toward her. She put her wand down calmly, and raised her hand — she caught the broom, then used it to lift herself off the ground, picking up her wand with the hand that was holding the pipe.

She inhaled from the pipe once last time, blew the smoke out, and emptied the contents out over the edge of the roof, hoping she'd see a few funny acting owls the next day. She placed the pipe back in her wand holster and the wand back in her bun, the tightest part, so as to make sure it wouldn't fall out.

She was hardly sitting on the broom before she lifted off and was speeding onward. She spun in the air, twirled and dodged the other towers, the feeling exhilarating. She nearly crashed into a few towers as she got used to her Firebolt in this state of mind. But she flew on, and minutes passed. It was just her out here. There were no problems, no stupid arguments, no tasks, no dangerous creatures — unless that griffin held a grudge — and no stress.

It was her, the night sky, and a blur of something dark blue. She swerved as the thing nearly smacked into her face, and was forced to change directions again to avoid slamming face first into the Gryffindor Tower. She had quick glimpse of a girl with long red hair as she raced off, likely Ginny. She looked over her shoulder, and then to her side, for the thing that had nearly slammed into her was no longer behind her, but had caught up remarkably quick — and it was now flying right next to her, singing a soothing, but haunting song.

It wasn't the same as Fawkes's song. It didn't warm her, necessarily, nor did it strengthen her, instill courage in her, or make her feel as though her heart had swelled in size the way Fawkes's song had in the Chamber of Secrets.

This phoenix's song was almost indescribable. The only shared quality it had with Fawkes's singing was in the way it calmed her, soothed her, made her feel as though she was in a slight state of tranquility. It was similar to how she felt when she was inside the castle during a heavy thunderstorm, where an overwhelming sense of peace would overtake her even though a storm raged outside, thundering, a release of pent-up tension that she easily understood.

The phoenix brushed up against Iris softly, then she took a sharp turn down — Iris followed suit. The two flew toward the ground at breakneck speed, spiraling down and around each other. Iris laughed joyfully as she pulled her broom up at the last second. And then the phoenix's claws latched onto her shoulders, harmlessly, and with a crack of thunder, a flash of lightning, and a nauseating, electrifying feeling, they were gone.

* * *

 **o**

 **Cat, Rat, and Snake**

 **o**

* * *

"No, leave that table. It's _mine_."

There was no one else in the Great Hall, which wasn't a surprise — it was past two in the morning. Iris had taken a chair and placed it right at the dessert table — or rather, she had thought the table was too far away, being only against the wall, and had Summoned the entire thing. A trail of fallen puddings had stretched from the wall to the center of the Great Hall, until a house-elf showed up to clean it. He was ready to clean more, remove the table and all, it being the only thing to clear out of the Great Hall now, but Iris had told him to hold off.

Ron and Hermione weren't here with her, as she wished they were. So she decided she would have to play Ron's part and devour everything she could. There was still the act of playing Hermione though.

"Hey," she said, looking at the house-elf. "Do you want to be freed?"

The house-elf gave a frightened squeak and Popped away.

Iris felt as though she hadn't eaten for days. This was perhaps because she was still heavily under the influence of whatever she had smoked (she made a mental note to remove Dudley's kneecaps) on top of the Owlery… over the lake… at Hagrid's home… under McGonagall's open window… in the company of Seraphina, the sphinx…

So she sat at the table, in the very center of the Great Hall, stuffing her mouth with as much as she could. She had just done an hour of intense flying with a hyperactive phoenix, who was perched on top of the chocolate fountain, her claws and beak covered in chocolate.

"Hey," she said, her mouth filled with treacle tart, "I'm gonna give you a name, yeah?"

The phoenix lifted its head from the waterfall — chocolatefall? — and looked at Iris with her bright, shining blue eyes. She tilted her head in question.

"It's just that we're basically friends now," Iris said. "We've had many encounters with each other now — two, to be precise — and it seems only logical I give you a name. Hedwig already had a name so I couldn't name her this, but how about Ragnarok, Destroyer of — no? Fine, suppose Astra will do — means the stars or something."

The phoenix didn't splatter Iris with chocolate like she had when Iris suggested she and Fawkes should have little phoenix babies, so Iris took it as casual indifference from the newly named Astra.

"Mm," Iris said, wiping her hands on the table linens. "Yep, I'll be getting no sleep tonight. Hey, you wanna fly through the corridors?"

Astra chirped in agreement.

"If you see a greasy haired man, do your little sonic scream thing."

Iris reached into one of her pockets and pulled out the Marauder's Map. She drew her wand from her hair as one hand shook the map to unfold it.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Every corner of map filled with lines, like a spider's web; dots, like freckles on skin; and words, written next to every dot, most of which were unmoving. Iris looked over it as she stood from her chair, grabbed her Firebolt, licked her lips of whatever remaining crumbs there were, and whistled for Astra to come along.

Dumbledore was a room next to his office, unmoving, likely sleeping. Snape was awake, but on the other side of the castle, and Filch was near him. She looked at all the corridors she and Astra could fly through, the classrooms and broom closets near them too, to make certain there would be no one to see her, and —

A low droning sound filled her head at the same time a disbelieving sort of anger filled the rest of her.

She had looked at the Gryffindor dormitories to make sure everyone was asleep, and while her eyes drifted away from the rooms, she saw a name in the Gryffindor common room, standing near the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitory: _Peter Pettigrew_.

Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, _here_ , in Hogwarts… Could it be a trick? But no, Lupin had said that the map didn't lie. What was he doing there then? Likely to get her, if his location was any hint. She stood feet away from the doors leading out to the entrance hall as she watched _Wormtail_ — the filthy fucking rat. An unbelievable amount of fury pounded against her senses — her blood like drums in her ears, a blurring in her sight, numbness throughout her body. This was the man who was responsible for the death of her parents.

She hadn't had the time to process it that night in the Shrieking Shack, but now, months later, the full force of Wormtail's betrayal slammed into her as if it was the Hogwarts Express. She couldn't imagine Hermione or Ron turning her over to Voldemort, not even now, after the argument the three had just had, not even if they had a hundred more similar arguments, but that was _exactly_ what Wormtail had done.

"Astra," she said in a low, fiery whisper. Astra looked down at her from the top of one of the double doors. "Gryffindor common room. Now."

Astra leapt from her spot and glided down to the shoulders of Iris, instantly Flashing away as soon as her claws clamped down.

They reappeared with a sharp, loud crack in front of the fireplace of the common room. Astra instantly flew up and perched herself on top of one of the rafters above. Wormtail, who had his wand out and pointed at the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory spun around, shrieking, and nearly fell over. He looked over at Iris, his eyes widening with every millisecond that passed between the two.

"Wormtail," Iris hissed, her eyes narrowed, her wand already in her fingers, ready, her blood roaring in her ears now, as though a jet engine was in the room.

"I-Iris," Wormtail said, looking nervous. "I was just looking for you… I'm sorry, Iris, but I'm going to —"

Iris's wand twitched once in her fingers; a red light shot out of it and sped toward Wormtail, making him stop mid-sentence. The Stunner splashed against his shield, of which Iris didn't even see Wormtail's wand form. It gave her a moment's pause — wasn't he a terrible wizard?

" _Confringo_!"

This spell was deflected by Wormtail, who was approaching slowly, and it hit a corner, breaking a table and several chairs, setting it all on fire, creating an explosion of sound. Hopefully it would attract attention. Wormtail's wand swished in his hand and ropes spiraled toward Iris — she ducked, the ropes flying into the fireplace instead.

"I've Silenced this room, Iris. Please make this easier on me. The Dark Lord wants you tonight."

Iris flicked her wand upward at the couch in front of her as she said, " _Depulso_!"

The couch was instantly cut in half with some cutting curse, and as Wormtail stepped through the two parts of the couch as they flew behind him and into the wall, his curse sliced across Iris's shoulder.

Iris gave a sharp cry, not of pain, but of frustration

" _Accio_!"

She jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding Wormtail's Stunner and the ropes she had just Summoned, alight with fire from the fireplace now — they wrapped around Wormtail, and before he could do anything but look wildly down at them, Iris pointed her wand at him.

" _Expulso_."

Somewhere deep inside her, she hoped that this spell would kill him — blow him into a million pieces, crush all of his ribs enough to pierce his heart, send him flying against the wall with enough force to break his back. But she knew it was best if she took him in alive. It was this reason she hadn't put much power behind the spell.

Wormtail easily shielded, even wrapped in burning ropes, which came undone a second later. Then with a flick of his wand, Iris was thrown against the wall. She grunted as she slid down. Wormtail raised his wand again, a small flicker of anger on his face now — but before his sickly yellow spell could reach Iris, there was a blur of dark blue, a crackling of electricity, a flash — and Astra became nothing more than a puddle of water and a small, dark cloud.

Wormtail was blasted back into furniture a split second later by Iris, out of sight, and Iris took the time to heal her cut. It sealed up nicely, letting Iris know it had not been a dark curse that Wormtail had used. She stood, wand pointing in the direction of Wormtail's crash, but he was nowhere in sight. It was stupid of her, to begin thinking of how Wormtail could have disappeared. She had spent the last few months attempting to become an Animagus — she had done another step just two hours before — and yet, the thought of Wormtail using his Animagus form not flee, but to flank her… it never crossed her mind.

The hairs on her neck stood on end —

* * *

Iris woke to the smell of something burning. She opened her eyes, attempting to move but finding herself wrapped in rope, and saw she was in a graveyard. It was still night. Wormtail was busying himself over a cauldron, large enough for a grown man to sit in, from which the burning smell drifted in from. Near him lay a bundle of robes, which made her scar prickle with pain when she looked in its direction.

"Wormtail," she growled. "Wormtail, let me down before I —"

"Silence!" hissed a high, cold voice out of the bundle of robes. "Wormtail, hurry. Get it over with!"

Iris struggled in her bindings, trying desperately to hold back what her apprehension was so ready to turn into: fear. She doubted very much that she was here simply to be killed, and though she was still high, a very large part of her deeply regretted that the last time she had talked to Hermione and Ron was in an argument. She threw her head back and yelled in frustration.

"Riddle, this is supposed to wait until the end of the year!"

There was a sizzling noise, and Iris looked over to Wormtail again, whose hands were above the cauldron, as though he had just dropped something in. The bundle of robes, and whatever was inside it was gone. She heard him mutter, "Bone of the father…"

And then, he pulled out an old looking bone and a long, shining, silver knife. He muttered something more, but Iris wasn't listening. She had flicked her wrist, and into her hands shot the pipe she had used. She doubted very much it could still be used as a wand, seeing as she took out the core and hollowed out the wood.

Or could it?

She thought hard back to anything she had been taught about wands. Wizards and witches didn't _need_ wands, but the wood and core, magical as they were, and when combined, helped focus the magic immensely. But was the core needed? Furthermore, would hollowing out the wood negate any magic the wood held? Magical potion ingredients, when cut, crushed, or shredded did not lose their magic.

There was another splash. Wormtail had dropped the bone in. He spoke again, but this time through sudden sobs. He raised the knife to his hand.

"Flesh of the servant…"

Iris ignored the rest. There were no real sharp edges to the pipe, so she could not cut the ropes, so the question remained. Had she done too much damage to Quirrell's wand? If she could use it to perform spells, how good would they even be? Would it be like a dull knife compared to a sharpen knife? Would it —

A horrible, harrowing howl pierced the night. Iris did not see him do it, but she knew — Wormtail's right hand was cut off at the wrist. Iris took a sort of twisted sense of pleasure in seeing Wormtail clutching the cauldron with his remaining hand, sobbing uncontrollably. And then a frightening thought came to her.

 _Flesh of the servant_ …

If Wormtail, an actual servant of Voldemort, had to lose a _hand_ , what would happen to her? A whole arm? Both arms? Would she be callously thrown into the cauldron, boiled alive, her body never to be found?

It didn't matter. Her time had run out. She had to try _now_. As Wormtail continued his anguished weeping, Iris pointed the pipe in his direction, hoping that she was pointing it the correct way.

" _Stupefy,_ " she muttered. To her delight, there was a dull flash of red — and it fizzled out before it even reached halfway to Wormtail. Iris stared in horror. It had worked, but just as a dull knife was to a sharpened one, it was utterly pathetic. She pointed it at the ropes binding her instead. " _Diffindo_."

One line of rope was cut.

"Oh — you're joking — _Diffindo_! — fucking _kidding_ me — _Diffindo_! _Diffindo_! _Diffindo_!"

Line after line was cut and then it all fell apart. Iris slid down the tombstone she had been tied to and ran to Wormtail's back, a trail of ropes behind her.

" _Stupefy_!"

The spell hit Wormtail in the side as he turned around, but did nothing. Out of exasperation, she punched Wormtail in the nose. He reeled back, blood flowing down his mouth, chin, and neck now, and then tackled her to the ground. She kneed him in his groin, doing her best to ignore the continuous stream of blood pumping out of his arm, and all over her. Wormtail fell to the side and Iris grabbed a bit of rope that had fallen off her as she first rushed to him.

Wormtail had his back to Iris as he whimpered, and she wrapped the rope around his neck — once, twice, three times — and she pulled hard. Wormtail only had one hand to try and stop her, and consequently, his attempts were fruitless. Iris only pulled harder with every one of his tries. She placed her knee against his back and stretched, pulled, pushing the rope deeper into Wormtail's throat.

She couldn't think through her blind rage. She pulled, pushed, pulled, and pushed, not realizing that Wormtail had stopped struggling, not caring that Voldemort was in a cauldron, perhaps about to be revived any second now. She pulled harder one last time, letting out a guttural, primal yell... howl… cry… whatever it was, it was full of rage, heartbreak, longing, and bitter triumph. She released all the suffering, from all the torment she had gone through these last few months, these last few years.

It was only until three things happened, all at once, all simultaneously, that she stopped — when she heard something snap in Wormtail's neck, a sickening sound; when the bells of a church rung from far away, from the town, wherever it was; and when she was no longer able to scream out of anything but pain, due to the fangs piercing her thigh.

She let go of the ropes. Wormtail slumped down into the dirt face-first. The snake, dark green and large, withdrew its fangs, and struck again — this time, Iris threw her own arm in front of her, and the fangs pierced it instead. She wrapped her own legs around the neck of the snake and used her other arm to fumble for Wormtail's wand.

She found her own wand instead, the curves and design of it familiar to her hand, let go of the snake, and blasted it away. Her own blood seeping down her arm and leg, she scrambled away. She blasted the cauldron over, the snake again and again, which didn't seem to want to die after a Blasting Curse and a Severing Charm, a tombstone she thought she saw move, and the snake once more.

Her bitten hand reached into one of her pockets, the other grabbing the pipe she had dropped, and pulled out the Portkey Dumbledore had given her. She was ready to use it, to flee, but thought better of it. She had both Wormtail and Voldemort here, and Voldemort appeared to have gained himself a body somehow. She was likely bleeding out, sure, and Wormtail was dead, yes — and she didn't want to even think about how to feel about the fact that she had just killed him, brutally — but it was worth it anyway. They should only need his body to prove that there's _something_ wrong with the Sirius's case.

Sirius. Innocent. Free.

The words danced around in her head, which was slightly fuzzy now. She Banished the snake, which she now remembered was called Nagini, once more as it slithered toward her, Summoned the cauldron, and with a Levitation Charm, trapped Nagini under it. The dull banging noises of the serpent attempting to get free were ignored by Iris as she made her way to the pile of — whatever disgusting substance Voldemort was lying in.

She crouched down next to him, trying her best to ignore the pain from her scar, and looked down, first at her blood-soaked hands.

"It's warm. And I've got blood on my shoes," she grumbled.

Voldemort was just as disgusting as the chunky fluid he was in. Half a pale white, half a dark red, and wrinkly all over; one of his arms was much shorter than the other; both his legs were same length, but only one foot was the size it should have been.

"Hm. You look like the back end of a sphynx cat."

Voldemort didn't respond. He only groaned in pain. Iris grabbed him by the head and turned his head to face her forcefully. His red eyes looked up at her in hatred.

"Potter…" he rasped in a nearly inhuman voice. "What have you done…"

Iris clutched her lower arm tighter. The blood wasn't coming out as quickly as she thought it would, but she figured a bit of pain was worth not risking death next to this slimy crotch dropping. She looked down at him.

"Look at you," she said softly. "You're so harmless, it's kinda adorable."

She spit in his face.

"What is this, the fourth time we've come across each other? The fourth time I've won? I should have a shirt made. What do you think? Potter, four. Riddle, zero."

The amount of fury she felt coming off of Voldemort definitely wasn't something she was imagining. His magic was attempting to lash out, she guessed. She sat down next to him, bringing her knees close to her chest.

"Where… where is Wormtail? You… you killed him."

He turned his head to stare at Wormtail, who was blue in the face, his eyes slightly bulging and rolled back into his head.

Iris turned to look too. "Oh, come on, he's not even — oh, bloody hell, he is dead."

Iris felt sick looking at the sight and turned back to Voldemort, who really didn't look that much better, but at least his appearance didn't scream: _'You murdered me_.'

"Potter…" Voldemort said. "I will offer you a chance... to join me… one last —"

"No."

"Hear me, Potter, listen to my —"

"I hear you every time I take a shit, Riddle," Iris said, and she would have laughed at the scream of rage this stillborn-looking sack of shit let out, but a feeling of sickness was beginning to rise in her. She couldn't get the image of Wormtail's face out of her mind, the sound of something in his neck being crushed...

"Weak, Potter… you are weak…"

"Shut up," Iris snapped. " _Shut up_. Damn it, I can't do this right now — had to come down now — of all the times for you to — just ridiculous — horrible luck, really."

As she muttered to herself, almost deliriously, she prepared her pipe again. After a moment, she brought it to her lips and inhaled.

"You know, I found Salazar Slytherin's portrait."

"H-How?"

"Chamber of Secrets. Y'know, after I killed that basilisk and destroyed your little diary."

Voldemort began breathing hard, though it sounded as though his body was having difficulties. Iris inhaled more from the pipe as she waited for his response.

"You — no, impossible, my diary was hidden away, you —"

"With Lucius Malfoy?" Iris said coldly. "Yeah, he tossed it in my direction, the fool. Enough of this bullshit, Riddle. What was the plan tonight?"

"I will not — Lucius would know not to —"

"Listen, you piece of shit." Iris tore off a piece of her own clothing and wrapped it around her hand, so as to not kill his body yet like she had done so with Quirrell. Then she picked Voldemort up and held him by his neck. His body hung limply as he struggled to breathe. He was half her size. "You're in my mercy now, get it? I killed your servant. You think I'm Dumbledore's little Golden Girl? Some of them call us the Golden Trio, y'know, stupid name, really — we've broken too many rules, laws, moral standards to be considered that, but it's mostly stupid because I'm not who they think I am. You were right, end of my first year. I was weak. _But I fixed that_ ," she hissed in his ear.

She wasn't lying, exactly. She _wasn't_ what the rest of the wizarding world thought she was, as they thought her to be the persona she was portraying now.

"How long did it take for Wormtail to find you?" she said. She could feel his fury building. "How long did it take for you to regain this pathetic body? Unless you want to spend another decade as a wraith, start talking. What — was — the — plan? To resurrect yourself?"

"Y-yes," Voldemort choked out, barely able to breathe with the grip Iris had on his neck. There was a little too much of something in his eyes for Iris to feel satisfaction from his pain. He was planning something.

"Why now?" Iris asked. "Why here, why now?"

"Winter solstice," Voldemort said hoarsely. "The potion — the blood ritual — it is done best on or near a solstice."

The apprehension in Iris grew, not by his words, but by his willingness to give this information to her. It was as though it was no bother, like it wouldn't matter — and it wouldn't, if she was to drop dead before she made her way back.

"Anything else?"

"No…"

"I know I can't kill you," she admitted. She took another hit from her pipe. "Not permanently, at least. But I can still take everything from you. Your body. Your wand. Your title. Salazar offered me the title of Lady Slytherin. Said I'd be much better than what he's got now. Isn't it sad that Salazar Slytherin, your own ancestor, thinks you're an idiot?"

"Salazar Slytherin's portrait has gone insane from centuries of —"

Iris squeezed harder on his neck, making him go silent. "I think I'm going to take him up on his offer. I think I'm going to destroy your body here, take Wormtail back and prove Sirius Black is innocent, take your wand and make another pipe out of it, just as I did with Quirrell's, and then, I'm going to have a statue created. It'll be of you. The plaque will say, ' _Voldemort sucks flaccid cock_.' Any guess as to what your statue is going to be doing?"

She threw him to the ground and pressed her heel against Voldemort's throat, ready to kill the body he was in.

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal."

But then, it was all over, and her threats were nothing, her hopes diminished, her plans unable to play out, for fangs were piercing her neck. She fell backward, gasping, attempting to pull Nagini off of her. After what felt like an eternity, Nagini withdrew, reared back to strike again, but before she could plunge her fangs into Iris once more, the killing blow, Iris blasted her away with her wand.

Iris choked on her own blood, and she knew that she wasn't going to be bringing anything but herself back with her. Wormtail was too far for her to reach with this blinding pain in her neck, with blood spilling out of her as it was now. Nagini lunged for her again, but she was gone, and Nagini sank her fangs into Voldemort instead.

She appeared in Dumbledore's office, clutching her neck with her hand, blood pouring through her fingers and down her front.

To her surprise, both Dumbledore and McGonagall were awake and in Dumbledore's office. They whipped around at the sound of her appearance, the blood draining out of their faces almost as quickly as her own was out of her neck.

Iris wanted to say, ' _How do you keep two professors in suspense_?' and then pass out. A great joke, she thought. But instead, she choked on her own blood and fell to her knees, splattering Dumbledore's and McGonagall's robes with blood as they rushed to her. She was unconscious before they reached her.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **How did Wormtail beat Iris?**

Wormtail was capable of creating a 40 ft crater in the ground, of being an Animagus at fifteen, overpowering Bertha Jorkins, nonverbal magic, and more. Fanfiction likes to depict him as weak, and perhaps he is when compared to the likes of Snape, Dolohov, McGonagall, etc. But Iris is a fourteen year old with almost no dueling experience whatsoever. She'd stand no real chance at this point in the story.

 **What's up with 'Flame' 'Flash' and 'Pop' being capitalized?**

Because 'Apparate' is capitalized, I'm going to use 'Flame' for Fawkes's method of transportation, 'Flash' for Astra, and 'Pop' for house-elf travel.


	12. Of Two Flowers

**Author's Notes:**

I know the pacing's been rather slow. There are roughly ten or so chapters left for _Iris Potter and the Goblet's Surprise_. These ten chapters will lead to the end of her fourth year, so the second half of this fic will cover nearly six months. So it'll speed up, especially after January.

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **Of Two Flowers**

 **1994, December 26, Hospital Wing.**

"Start from the beginning, Iris. Tell me everything."

Iris didn't look into Dumbledore's eyes. She had no plans of telling _anyone_ everything. She desperately wanted to, she couldn't lie to herself — for what might have been the first time in her life, she wanted to talk of her feelings, of her emotions. Hermione would be proud. But no, she did not want to think of Hermione now, not after what she had been told.

 _Miss Granger was informed, yes, but she has not come to visit, I'm afraid._

Where was she to begin? Was Astra worth mentioning? She didn't seem so, and Iris also didn't _want_ to mention her. Dumbledore, for all his leniency, would not want her with access to a phoenix. And what had become of Astra? Had she died, or had her phoenix side have her reborn — through ash and flame, no, perhaps not, but through something else?

"I — I," started Iris, not having her story planned out, not at all ready, but knowing it would be unwise to spend time thinking of it, now, with Dumbledore watching her. "I was flying on my broom, outside, and I —"

What was she to say now? The window she had broken by Summoning her broom had likely woken the other girls, and one of them had probably repaired the window. But even if so, had they told Dumbledore? It wouldn't be wise to say she had flown in through the window and had heard noise downstairs.

"— made my way back to the common room, through the portrait — the Fat Lady was half-asleep, so I just gave her the password under my Invisibility Cloak. Wormtail — Peter Pettigrew, I mean — was trying to go up the stairs when I got in. We dueled, I lost."

"The common room was a complete wreck," said Professor McGonagall, who was also there, sitting next to Madam Pomfrey, who refused to leave on the claim of needing to watch over Iris. Bless her. "How long did you two duel?"

Iris shrugged in her bed. "No more than two minutes, I don't think."

"Two minutes?" said McGonagall. "Heavens, how could the two of you have done so much damage?"

" _Well_ , he _was_ partly responsible in my parents' deaths," said Iris. "I wasn't exactly going to hold back, was I?"

 _Half-truths, Iris, half-truths_.

"What happened next, Iris?" said Dumbledore.

"I tried blowing him up," Iris said bluntly. "It didn't work. He flew into a corner, and when I was healing my shoulder, he turned into a rat and snuck behind me. I woke up in some graveyard, tied to a tombstone. Wormtail threw Voldemort in, some bone, his own hand, and was going to do something with me, I think, but I got free then —"

"How?" asked Dumbledore.

"I cut myself free," Iris lied.

"With what?"

"Sirius gave me a knife for Christmas, used for unlocking locks, undoing knots, and, y'know, _cutting_. I was tied in a way that let me reach into my pocket."

Dumbledore nodded that he understood. "Continue."

"While Wormtail was sobbing over his missing hand, I grabbed his wand from his pocket and Stunned him. Then I took my own wand, and that's when Nagini — the snake — attacked. First my thigh, then my arm, then my neck. I tried using Banishing Charms and a Levitation Charm on the snake in between the bites."

Iris thought this would work. There was a chance Dumbledore had checked her wand to see the spells on it, and she knew the Stunning Spell would not show for she had used the pipe to cast it — and the last thing she needed now was Dumbledore, McGonagall, and a healer finding out she had done drugs. It would also explain what happened with Wormtail without any of them having a way to really confirm it. It wasn't as though she could have told them the location of the graveyard. She had no idea herself.

And she didn't really like the idea of telling Dumbledore she had Voldemort at her mercy and that she could have easily brought him back to Dumbledore's office. She still couldn't believe she had gone into a monologue, coming out worse for wear because of it… and after she had laughed at sixteen-year-old Voldemort for doing the same.

"I used the Portkey after the bite to the neck," she added, reaching with her hand to touch the bandages on her neck. Nagini had venom, apparently, but according to Madam Pomfrey, the venom was neutralized. Iris chalked it up to phoenix tears or the universe's obsessive urge to make sure she'd suffer as long as possible — death making future torment impossible.

"So Peter Pettigrew was still there to either finish the ritual or stop it," said Dumbledore, pensively.

"Hope he bled out," Iris muttered, just loud enough for them all to hear.

"I shall attempt to learn what ritual was done," Dumbledore said, standing up. "We can only hope that there was more to it, that Lord Voldemort has not already returned. Is there anything more, Iris?"

"Yeah."

"May I hear it?"

"No, sir."

This seemed to take Dumbledore by mild surprise, and McGonagall by more than mild indignation.

"It's not important," Iris added. And it wasn't, not exactly. What difference did Wormtail's death really make? If anything, letting Dumbledore believe Voldemort still had a servant would do some good. Maybe, with Voldemort without a servant once more and Dumbledore on higher alert, a double positive in a way, the rest of the year might be somewhat peaceful, deadly tournament tasks aside.

Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a bottle, holding what looked like water. A small dark cloud hovered over the water in the bottle. "This was found in the Gryffindor common room. It appears to be water, but for some odd reason, both Professor McGonagall and I are unable to Vanish it. Is it a spell Peter Pettigrew, or you, yourself, cast? As you can see, there is a small cloud of something hovering above it. It follows the water wherever it goes. It's most peculiar."

"It's a potion I was working on," Iris said, eyeing the bottle. Was it what became of Astra? "The bottle I had it in smashed. I Transfigured the shards of glass into rope to use on Wormtail, since I haven't been able to cast the Incarcerous Spell myself."

McGonagall nodded in approval. "I saw the rope. An excellent Transfiguration, Potter, for having done so in the middle of a duel. Take five points for Gryffindor."

Iris almost laughed in her face.

Dumbledore soon left the room with McGonagall at his heels, whispering frantically in his ear about the possible return of Voldemort. He had placed the bottle of water — Astra juice? — on the table next to her bed. She had an bizarre urge to drink it.

Iris turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Did _anyone_ visit?"

"No," said Madam Pomfrey brusquely. "Only Weasley and Granger were told, I think, so no one else would have a reason to think you were here — well, given how many times you've been in the hospital wing, I suppose it's perfectly reasonable for one to assume you're here."

Iris did not find this as amusing as Madam Pomfrey did, which was very little in the first place.

"I mean, _really_ ," said Madam Pomfrey, "it's absolutely ridiculous. Once in September, twice in November, and now once in December — either you go looking for trouble or you have the worst luck I've ever seen!"

"Thank you for your input."

"Don't take that tone with me. Your luck will run out one of these days, Potter."

These words echoed in Iris's head throughout the day, bouncing off the inside of her skull so as to never leave her mind. _Your luck will run out one of these days._ It was as though Madam Pomfrey thought Iris didn't know, as though she believed it was her fault for being kidnapped, as though Wormtail wouldn't have figured out a way to get her anyway. What was she to do, spend every waking _and_ sleeping moment with an Auror at her side?

Iris remained moody as the day dragged on. It seemed that more Gryffindors were turning on her now, due to the fact that her partner to the Yule Ball had been a Slytherin. However, it also seemed as though Astoria had been quite polite and respectful the entire night. She was getting random small, polite smiles from people she had never talked to before in her life. A few even came up to her to start conversations. These were people from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

The attitude of many Gryffindors completely soured these moments though, and what was worse, Hermione and Ron weren't there for her at all. Ron was flatly ignoring her, except for when he snapped at her making a joke in his vicinity, not even directed at him. And she certainly had no plans of begging for forgiveness that she felt wasn't needed in the first place. Hermione, on the other hand, was another matter.

"Are you okay?" she asked later, when the sun was setting.

"You'd like to know now, would you?" said Iris, not looking at Hermione as she pulled a book from her dresser and hopped into bed.

"I — I thought you wouldn't want me to come visit, after last night," said Hermione. "And I thought you'd be fine. Professor McGonagall said you were going to be fine, so I thought it wasn't a big deal."

"Hm."

"Are you still angry?"

"Why shouldn't I be? You got all pissy with me last night over something that wasn't my fault, and then today — today, Ron is massive git and you didn't even bother."

Hermione placed her hands on her face. "It's — I just — there's no easy place for me to be right now, Iris, not with my two best friends fighting —"

"Ron and I are hardly fighting," Iris said. "We're not even speaking, except for that ridiculous outburst he had downstairs in the common room. You and I are fighting more than him and I, all because of _your_ ridiculous outburst, your ridiculous jealousy over a git that hadn't even realized you were a girl until yesterday. It's pathetic."

"Look, Iris, just — just try to see it from my perspective," Hermione said with a forced calm. "I —"

"I don't think we can afford to shove another head that far up your ass."

" _Really_?" Hermione said through gritted teeth. "Can't you just — just _shut up_ with the insults for once and have a civilized, normal discussion?"

Iris sighed. "Sorry."

"So, what happened last night?" Hermione asked tentatively, sounding as though she was regretting not visiting Iris in the hospital wing. "Why were you injured? What did you even do after — well, once the ball was finished."

"Had a date with firewhisky and misery."

"Firewhisky? You said you were high, Iris."

"High off of firewhisky," Iris lied. "What was I supposed to say? You ruined my drunk?"

"Is that why you were injured?" Hermione said, sounding disapproving. "You got drunk, _again_ , and got yourself injured, _again_?"

" _No_ , Hermione. It wasn't because of that. It had nothing to do with that. If you had bothered to check up on your best friend in the hospital wing —"

"Well, you're always in the hospital wing," Hermione said impatiently.

"Three times this year, Hermione, _three times_."

"Three times too many! You were always fine before, so I figured you'd be fine this time too."

"Well, I _wasn't_ fine," snapped Iris. "What is this? You're putting me on a bloody pedestal now? _Iris has been through worse! What's a little normal venom compared to basilisk venom?_ "

"Venom?" said Hermione worriedly.

" _She fought a dragon, what's the big deal about being kidnapped by Peter Pettigrew, brought to Voldemort, having fangs sink into her neck, nearly killing her_ —"

Hermione gasped. "V-Voldemort?" she said, looking pale now.

"Yes, _Voldemort_." Iris gave Hermione the edited version of what had happened, the same she had given Dumbledore. "I was almost killed by Voldemort and you weren't even there after, when I wanted you, when I _needed_ you."

Iris shut her curtains on Hermione's horrified face.

Before she began reading, she placed the tip of her wand on her chest, and incited: " _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_."

It was as though everything beneath her had suddenly vanished and she was falling from a great height. And just as suddenly as it started, it ended a second later. It was the same as the one she had felt in the morning when she had done it, before Dumbledore had come to the hospital wing to question her. She would need to do this every morning and every night now.

Looking down at the book she had grabbed, _Spirit Animals and What They Mean_ , she began browsing it, reading through any pages of animals that caught her eye, calming down as the rest of the world, the rest of her problems, all drowned away, leaving only excitement at the fact she was getting nearer and nearer to becoming an Animagus, just like Sirius.

She read of cats, of their patience, curiosity, courage, independence, confidence, laziness, and temper; of the doe, with its tenderness tempered with its strength, of its grace and love, which reminded Iris of her mother; of hawks, and of their lack of fear, their positivity, their ability to tear apart their enemies in a second, metaphorically, or so Iris assumed. An hour passed as she became absorbed in the book.

She turned back to the page for cats, small or large. Outside of the independence, and perhaps the patience one — okay, definitely the patience one — but outside these two, it described her well enough. Did the courage one count if she took on an animal a hundred times her size? She didn't like the idea of being a lion, however; it wouldn't be all that useful outside of swinging her metaphorical dick around.

Iris knew her mother's Patronus was a doe. Was this because her father's was a stag? Or would her Patronus have been a doe before she fell in love with her father? She wasn't even sure if her mother was an Animagus, though she doubted it. Lupin or Sirius would have mentioned it, surely, and she didn't really see why her mother would try to become one.

The Marauders had done so for Lupin; she was doing so because if she got lucky, it could become useful in hiding or escaping, which she was evidently involved in quite a lot. Escaping the ropes Wormtail had put her in would have been simple if she could have turned into a small animal of sorts. She moved on, figuring that a doe form wouldn't give her much use either.

The birds interested her the most. It was true that her broom could fly faster than most birds, but as her flight with Astra had proven, birds — or at least, phoenixes — were more agile. Iris had also jumped off her broom several times the night before, and the feeling was exhilarating. Though she could only travel _down_ without her broom, free falling felt _better_ , freer, in a way she could not explain.

The peregrine falcon and the golden eagle in particular caught her attention, the two fastest birds, faster than the Firebolt — at least, when diving, which is exactly what Iris would often do if she ended up a bird. Other birds also piqued her interest, such as the raven, the hawk, even the owl. She also had to admit that being a small snake would be incredibly practical.

Once she was done, she closed the book, applied a Sticking Charm to it, and tossed it onto her headboard, as she was too lazy to get up and place the book back on her dresser. She closed her eyes. The memory of what happened in that graveyard drifted lazily to the forefront of her mind. She didn't try to stop it.

She had killed Wormtail. This wasn't like Quirrell, where she had only sped up Quirrell's eventual death through self-defense. Or had she? She wasn't certain what to make of Dumbledore's reassurance. The reasonable side of her wanted to believe Dumbledore's reassurance to be nothing but a falsity — an attempt at comfort, yes, but a lie nonetheless. The hopeful side of her wanted to believe that Quirrell really would have died regardless of what she had done.

But if that was true, why had Ginny lived after Voldemort's diary has possessed her? But if it wasn't true, why had the animals that Sirius had found in Albania had melted brains and whatnot? Was it this confusion, this uncertainty in the facts, that let Iris sleep at night? But now, there was no confusion. There was no uncertainty in the facts. There was only one fact.

She had killed a person.

She needed a holiday.

It _could_ be argued that it was out of self-defense, but she wouldn't bother. She wouldn't be able to convince herself. Wormtail had been done for. She had found her own wand in his pocket easily, she could have Stunned Wormtail easily too. But would he not have bled out by the time his wound was sealed?

No, if she had just taken him with the Portkey, Dumbledore would have stopped the bleeding. So yes, she had killed someone when it wasn't needed. It was at least some small comfort to know that this bothered her so much. But bother her it _did_. She wanted to talk about it, with someone who wouldn't judge her for her actions. It was odd. She had almost never wanted to talk about her feelings before, but _this_ — this was more than she could handle alone.

There was the ritual Voldemort spoke of as well. A blood ritual. Salazar Slytherin's offer looked more appealing now; she knew Dumbledore wasn't going to give her any information. He hadn't her first year, when she had been literally moments away from death, had he? Why would he now? If she wanted to know the details, she would have to find the information herself. That was how it always was when it came to these things.

And did Voldemort learn of this specific ritual from Salazar Slytherin's books and notes? She also realized, now, after the fact, that she probably shouldn't have told Voldemort she knew of the secret part of the Chamber.

Then there were the lingering thoughts on snakes. She hadn't heard Nagini sneaking up on her _both times_. How very useful Nagini was for Voldemort. How very useful any snake could be for anyone. She very much doubted she'd become a snake Animagus; the symbolism and personality traits that reflected a snake as an inner animal form didn't reflect her.

And the _venom_. It might have not killed her, for whatever reason, but it had given Madam Pomfrey quite the trouble. Not that she was awake to witness it. And this was the venom of — what was Nagini, exactly? A viper? How deadly, how _helpful_ would venom of a basilisk be? If she had one the night before, it could have been out and about, could have seen Wormtail's rat form in the common room, could have attacked Wormtail while she couldn't.

And would a basilisk judge her for killing someone? Did serpents even have real personalities? The basilisk from her second year was more of a raving lunatic than anything else, but Jerry, Newt's basilisk, had been the opposite. She hoped whatever Newt had wasn't some oddly formal snake that preferred to have a napkin wrapped around its neck before it ate cut up small portions of mice.

She leapt out of her bed, Summoned parchment and a quill, and sat down at the table on the other side of her bed, opposite of the dresser. Under five words, she drew a lightning bolt.

 _I want the venom included._

 _ϟ_

* * *

 **o**

 **Poison and... Ivy?**

 **o**

* * *

Iris began her walk to the Great Hall for lunch, alone and quite hungry, as she had not had breakfast that morning. The week had been uneventful, thankfully, but unfriendly to her patience. Ron and Iris were still not talking. Hermione insisted that she at least _start_ the conversation that would lead to Ron apologizing, but Iris refused to do so. This led to Hermione being irritated with her too, but at least the two girls, however awkwardly, still talked.

The only real pleasant thing that had occurred was that Newt had sent her a letter back.

 _Dear Ivy,_

 _Venom, but no killing gaze or rooster vulnerability. The fifteenth!_

 _Newt_

Iris found the name Newt had used peculiar — incredibly so, in fact. _Ivy_. This was a nickname a muggle girl, Reagan, who Iris still kept in contact with over the summers, had given her in her days before Hogwarts. She had once asked Reagan why she called her Ivy, and it was due to her middle name, Vivienne — or more so, the second and third letter of her middle name — I-V.

 _Ivy_.

It was a bit of a stretch for a nickname, Iris thought; a bit silly and unnecessary, as she had told Reagan, and it was _this reason_ that had her curious as to why Newt had used it. Ivy was not a nickname anyone would use for _Iris_ or _Vivienne._ Reagan had done so purely because she hadn't liked being reminded of her grandmother, whose name was Iris, and who was also a bit of a cunt.

So why had Newt? Was it just a coincidence? Had he used the name in case the letter was intercepted, so that it wouldn't be linked to her? Had he just picked a name at random and assumed Iris would know the letter was addressed to her because of the contents?

Just as she was about to enter the Great Hall, Hermione came nearly stamping out of the Great Hall, looking furious and on the brink of tears.

"Hermione?"

Hermione stopped in front of Iris, took one look at her, shook her head fiercely, and pushed past.

"Hermione!" Iris called after her, but Hermione ignored her. Iris pulled a slice of treacle tart out of her pocket and took a bite out of it, still watching her walk away.

"Did you just pull out some treacle tart out of your pocket?"

Iris looked to her side to see who had spoken: Cedric Diggory, the Seeker for Hufflepuff. She shrugged. "Impervius Charm," she said through a mouthful of the food.

"I didn't realize the Impervius Charm kept lint off too," Cedric said.

Iris looked down at her treacle tart in concern.

Cedric hesitated for a moment, but then spoke quietly to her. "Listen, Iris, you might want to avoid the Great Hall."

"What?" said Iris, her stomach grumbling. "Why?"

"It's just —" Cedric paused. "Rita Skeeter," he said simply.

"Ah," said Iris, widening her eyes mockingly. "She's done another on me, has she?"

Cedric smiled down at her with sympathy. "This one isn't as bad as the Parselmouth one, at least not to the general public — it's not even in the _Daily Prophet_. But you'll find it worse — if you were meaning to keep it a secret." He said goodbye after giving her one more warning and walked away.

Iris made her way into the Great Hall anyway, not really taking Cedric's warning seriously. But as soon as she walked in, half of the eyes turned on her. Many of the students had a purple and pink magazine in their hands. It was _Witch Weekly_ ; Lavender and Parvati had thrown them carelessly around their dorm enough for her to get a decent enough look at the covers of them. She saw McGonagall's face planted firmly into her palms at the staff table.

Iris went to walk toward an empty spot at the Gryffindor table when someone suddenly looped an arm through hers and began pulling her out of the Great Hall.

"What the —"

"Not 'ere. As far as they are concerned, you 'ave already read it and you simply do not care. This is better. If you stay, you will become upset and they will see. You do not want this."

Iris stared up at Fleur, open-mouthed, as she was pulled away from the Great Hall, through the entrance hall, and eventually into an empty classroom.

"What the hell, Fleur?" Iris said as she turned around to see Fleur lock the door. "What's everybody's problem? Hermione's bursting into tears, Cedric Diggory's acting like the Great Hall's found out about the dead body I've — ah, no, you weren't supposed to hear that."

Fleur looked unimpressed. "You will not be joking when you read _this_ ," she said, and she waved one of the _Witch Weekly_ magazines. "That was not you at the Yule Ball?" she asked in her melodic accent.

"What? Let me see that. How did Skeeter find out about the Polyjuice?"

"Were you shouting it to the skies?" Fleur asked, sitting down in one of the chairs in the classroom and crossing her legs.

"I'll be cursing Rita Skeeter's name to the skies soon," Iris muttered as she flipped through the magazine, pacing back and forth in the empty classroom. She finally found the article.

* * *

 _ **Dysfunctional Love Triangle — Iris Potter's Secret**_

 _Though she remains the number one champion of the Triwizard Tournament even after the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, gained an additional ten points in her duel against the Hogwarts champion, Cassius Warrington, not all is well with fourteen-year old Iris Potter, writes Rita Skeeter._

 _Many were shocked with Potter's behavior during the Yule Ball at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but not for the reason you might think! Potter was polite, respectful, and behaved maturely. But the fourth-year Gryffindor was keeping a secret. There was a reason Iris Potter wasn't spouting foul language, insulting people, and generally acting as though there wasn't a care in the world to give in a formal, respectable setting like the Yule Ball at Hogwarts._

 _Or perhaps it should be said there was a reason Astoria Greengrass wasn't acting like a buffoon. Overheard at Hogwarts, Potter freely admitted to having Astoria Greengrass use Polyjuice Potion to masquerade as her at the Yule Ball, as she herself did not want to attend._

 _And more was overheard as well — a heated argument with the famous (or perhaps, infamous) trio of Hogwarts: Iris Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley. Those who still attend Hogwarts will likely know these three, but to those who don't…_

* * *

Iris skipped past the introductions, her heart racing fast. Was the Polyjuice her secret? Or had Rita Skeeter overheard everything?

* * *

 _Hermione Granger seems to fancy Ronald Weasley, so much so that the friendship between her and Iris Potter sounded as though it was shattering into pieces, as Ronald Weasley seemed to be smitten with Iris Potter. Now, if it wasn't overheard that it wasn't really Potter with Cassius Warrington as her partner, one might assume that Warrington was who Iris Potter was smitten with, but as it so happens, Potter isn't smitten with any boy in Hogwarts — not any boy in the world. From what was overhead, it is far more likely that Iris Potter is smitten with her best friend, Hermione Granger._

* * *

And there it was.

Iris cursed loudly. Rita Skeeter have overheard it all. But how? She was certain there was no one else there. Was she too high that night? But no, Dumbledore had been there as well — wouldn't _he_ at least have seen Rita Skeeter?

"I don't think you've read it all," said Fleur, who had been watching Iris the entire time. "It is _foul_. This Rita Skeeter 'as written about you, your friends, Dumbledore, that Professor McGonagall, _me_ —"

"You?" Iris said absentmindedly, her mind still reeling from the fact that the entire school now knew of the Polyjuice and her sexuality — though, Cassius Warrington's words about sexuality in the wizarding world had sunk into her over the last two weeks and she was feeling particularly more indifferent to the whole matter now. So what if they knew?

And if they couldn't keep their comments to themselves, she would simply go back on her promise to Dumbledore — that is to say, forget the rules, stop caring about points, detentions, and reprimands. She would simply Stun them. She would do it in front of Snape if need be. Dumbledore would not expel her if she Stunned Snape himself. She could probably Stun Dumbledore and he'd wake up thinking it was a fine joke.

"— and someone 'as spoken of the time we 'ave spent together, 'owever short it was," Fleur was saying. "She 'as made it so that she does not look as though she is insulting you for your sexuality, but is nonetheless pointing it out as often as she can, knowing people will read about it whether they are okay with it or not."

"You don't care?"

Fleur snorted. "I know bigotry, Iris. I would be a — 'ow do you say? — _hypocrite_? — if I did care, non?"

"How, though?" Iris said to no one in particular, sitting down. How had Rita Skeeter known? Surely Ron wouldn't have — no, he hadn't even heard the full conversation; he still didn't know that she was — well, he did _now_. She read the rest of the article. To back up her claims about Iris being insulting and disrespectful, Rita Skeeter had brought up the encounter with the goblins in the Three Broomsticks, and though the whole inn had heard _some_ of what she had called the goblins, only Ron and Hermione had heard some of the other things mentioned in this article.

Rita Skeeter had been there as well.

"I 'ad wondered why you did not speak to me during the ball," Fleur said, disturbing the silence. "I was… a little upset. It is lonely 'ere, after all. But it was not you the whole time, was it?"

Iris shook her head, which lay on her palms now.

"Don't worry," Fleur said. "Soon you will grow to become like me. Beautiful, indifferent —"

"And very haughty?"

"No," said Fleur, not sounding insulted in the slightest. "The 'aughtiness will come with the indifference. You will realize that the rest of the world 'ardly cares for you, and that it is not worth a damn, not worth much of your attention or time."

"Oh?" said Iris skeptically. "Why did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire if you're so — so unconcerned about everything? — so believing that the world isn't worth your effort? Why did you get so upset at me when you found out I was a champion?"

"Because," sighed Fleur, "I was a fool. I let Madame Maxime fool me into doing this. I thought it might be, 'opefully, a _little_ fun if nothing else. I was wrong. Just you wait, Iris Potter, perhaps it will not be in the same way as me, but you _will_ grow indifferent. You will stop caring about these matters. And it will show, in one way or another. Dumbledore has stopped caring about many things, 'as he not? Now, you are 'ungry, non? I would not be surprised if you knew where the kitchens were — so let's walk, Iris. Come, I will not allow you to sulk. No sulking," she demanded, pulling Iris to her feet.

Iris snorted, the edges of her lips curving upward. "I know a way you can get me to stop sulking."

"No, I'm afraid not, Iris. The indifference isn't the only thing you've yet to gain."

"Ouch."

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other, both attempting to keep a straight face.

"You said I'd become like you _soon_ ," said Iris into the silence. "Does that mean that there'll come a day where you _will_ be willing to —"

"Come, let us go eat," interrupted Fleur. "And then the two of us will grab our golden eggs and find out the secret behind them, yes?"

"Maybe _you_ haven't read the article," Iris said, waving the magazine before throwing it on the ground and obliterating it with fire, "but it said that I was into _girls_ , and anyone with golden eggs is most definitely not —"

"You deserve that article, you know."

Iris laughed. She laughed more freely than she had in what must have been weeks — if she didn't count the unstoppable giggling that accompanied Christmas night. And she didn't. She hadn't really considered that real laughter, not like this. Not even Ron was willing to insult her so carelessly like this, and it made her feel better, however odd it might have been.

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

 **o**

 **Elves and… Moody?**

 **o**

* * *

Iris barged into the kitchens as though she owned it — and with how much each house-elf here loved her for her kind words and praise, which she frequently gave, she might as well have owned it.

"Ah, my minions." Iris sighed happily at the beaming faces of the house-elves. They didn't rush to her as they used to, thankfully, as Iris had told them there was no need. Then she frowned. By the large fireplace, where Winky spent most of her time, drinking herself to death with butterbeer, Professor Moody was talking with the drunken house-elf. "Professor Moody?"

Moody spun around, wand in hand. "Agh — Potter. Delacour. Didn't hear the two of you walk in. What are you doing here, Potter?"

Ignoring his question, Iris raised her eyebrows. "Probably because, from what it looked like, you were interrogating Winky as though she held the secret to fixing your face. Or were you under the impression that butterbeer was the key to immortality?"

Moody grunted a short laugh. "It's none of your business, Potter. Not that it matters, ruddy elf won't talk. Acts as though she's still Crouch's house-elf."

Winky let out a small sob.

"Why are you here anyway?" asked Moody. "Don't answer that, I don't think I care," he said lightly. He gave a nod to Iris and Fleur and began to walk toward the exit, but stopped. "Oh, Potter, you'll probably want to know I checked out that graveyard on Dumbledore's orders."

Iris's head turned so quickly to look at Moody that there was a sudden sharp pain in her neck. "What? How?" she said quickly. "I didn't know where it was, how did —"

"Dumbledore figured it out. It was in the village his parents used to live in. Little Hangleton. Didn't find much though." Moody gave Iris a very shrewd look. "Thought you'd oughta know."

"I 'eard 'is eye can see through clothing," Fleur said once he had left.

"He's not like that," Iris said, her mind on the look Moody had given her. Had he really found nothing? Did Nagini hopefully eat Wormtail's body? "Wouldn't be surprised if a curse took out something a little higher than his leg. Don't think he'd care enough about me anyway," Iris said absentmindedly and quietly, staring at Winky curiously. "Covered in scars and all that."

She wasn't sure if Fleur heard this.

"Winky?" Iris said, leaning down and placing her hands on her knees. Winky looked up at her through half-lidded eyes. "What did Moody ask you about? And where's Dobby?"

"He is asking Winky of Winky's master!" she squeaked with a sort of half-anguished, half-indignant sob. "But Winky is not telling him anything! Winky will not tell anyone of master's secrets! No, no, no, no —"

"Right," said Iris, straightening up. "Forget it. Did you want to eat, Fleur? I forgot if you —"

Iris looked over her shoulder, but Fleur was not there. Instead, she was lying on a couch that had not been there before, being fed various foods by a bunch of house-elves.

Iris asked her to conjure a couch for her too, and the two spent the next hour being as lazy as they could possibly be; Fleur had even used an advanced Vanishing spell on the both of them to empty their bladders so they did not need to get up. When Dobby had come from wherever he had been and had found the two in the kitchens, Iris had been sure he was going to explode from happiness.

To the pleasure of both Iris and Fleur, they began spending most meals here; Iris began spending as much time as she could with Fleur, usually in places in the castle where she wouldn't run into others. She did not want to find out the public opinion of what Rita Skeeter had revealed.

To the _displeasure_ of Iris, her friendships with Hermione and Ron weren't improving at all. She and Ron still weren't talking when classes started up again, and many of her conversations with Hermione were stilted and too polite.

"So, Iris," Hermione said in their Care of Magical Creatures class. "Are you doing okay? I haven't really seen you much since that article came out..."

"Do you blame me?" Iris said, sitting on the wooden fence all the boys stayed behind while the girls studied the unicorn from up close.

The unicorn had nearly impaled Iris with its horn when Iris had gotten near. She figured it was either because she had recently killed. She couldn't tell anyone of this, of course, so the Slytherins found their own reasons; according to them, the unicorn hadn't wanted her near because she wasn't _pure_. In other words, by the end of that day, all of Hogwarts would have heard a rumor of Iris giving herself to Cassius Warrington.

Hagrid angrily exclaimed that unicorns weren't like that, that they were all basing their jokes off a myth. He and Professor Flitwick were the only two teachers who bothered defending her. Taking away points was all McGonagall had bothered doing, but it didn't really matter as Snape would just give them all back, seeing as most of the insults came from Slytherins.

It was all ridiculous. One moment, she was a lesbian who hadn't really gone with Cassius to the ball. The next, she had let Cassius have sex with her on the night of the ball. Iris stopped paying attention. When Sirius had asked her what they were saying, she couldn't tell him; she wasn't really sure of the general consensus of what Rita Skeeter's article revealed even days after. She was thankful, though, that Sirius was completely supportive — so much so that he began talking about the time he had found her mother and Marlene McKinnon in a broom closet.

Iris began looking forward to her time with Sirius through the mirror and Fleur in general more so as the days passed.

With Ron, it was silence. With Hermione, it was constant questions about how she was doing, how Iris should be preparing for the second task, and — well, Iris zoned out after this point; this usually led to more arguments. With Fleur, it was relaxation and simply not caring about the rest of the world. And as Fleur actually enjoyed speaking with Iris, her English was improving.

Hogwarts saw less and less of Iris as each day passed.

About a week before her duel with Krum, Iris realized that there was a week before her duel with Krum.

"Oh, shit."

"Hm?" Fleur said, curled up in her Transfigured couch by the fireplace in the kitchens. Both her and Iris had their own small couch set up against the wall now. At first, the house-elves had objected, but Iris had told them that her mere presence would keep Hermione Granger (the house-elves all shuddered here) away from the kitchens. And now, Iris and Fleur had just eaten more than they could handle, thanks to the unrelenting deliveries of freshly baked food, and they both felt nauseous.

"I just realized I have to duel Krum."

Fleur snorted with laughter, though it was followed by a soft groan. She had just finished eating quite a lot of food. "You will lose. You might be able to fight dragons better than the rest of us, but a month would not 'ave been enough for you to duel somebody from Durmstrang. _I_ will lose against Krum. Durmstrang 'as a 'eavy emphasis on dueling. Iris, perhaps it wasn't wise to spend so much time 'ere. I am being overfed. I think I am gaining a stomach."

"It's been like two weeks since we started eating here," Iris pointed out. "You're fine."

"Oh?" Fleur said in a low, sultry voice. "You think so, do you?"

"No, not really."

"Hmph! You English have no taste," Fleur said, and she stretched, her stomach showing as her top lifted with her arms.

Iris tried not to stare.

Fleur smiled at her. "I forgot to ask, 'ave you tried anything new with the egg?"

Iris sighed and picked up her golden egg from the floor. "Yeah, I took it outside and cast every fire spell I know on it. It was glowing red by the time I was finished with it. I had to open it with my wand because it was so hot, but it didn't make any difference. I even asked Hagrid what kind of things you need to do with a dragon's egg, but nope; nada; nothing."

Fleur clapped her hands twice, signaling to Iris to throw the egg to her. Frowning, Iris did so. Upon catching it, Fleur immediately sat up, opened the egg, and tossed it like a basketball into a cauldron that had just been filled with water by a house-elf. After the initial splash, and ignoring a house-elf's glare, the two listened.

The screeching turned into a muffled kind of _singing_. Fleur and Iris both looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Well," said Fleur, "there you go."

"Want to shove your head in there and listen?" Iris asked.

"Non," said Fleur, getting up and making her way toward the cauldron. "I think we will need a bath. Does 'Ogwarts 'ave one? It is a bit chilly to go swimming in the lake."

"The prefects have one. I used it last year. They've changed the password since then, though."

"But 'ow did you 'ave the password last year? You were not a prefect, no?"

"Percy Weasley told me," Iris said. "I saved his sister, Ginny, in my second year. I might have" — Iris hesitated for a moment — "reminded him of that little fact when he refused to give it to me."

"Are there any other prefects who 'ave loved ones who've you've saved the lives of?"

Iris tsked once loudly in halfhearted disapproval. "Guilt tripping one prefect was enough, any more is just crossing the line."

While Iris was thinking of bringing Fleur down to the Chamber, where she had built herself a small pool that was no longer a pool, Winky burst into sobs.

"Oh, here we go again," groaned Iris, dismissing the idea; Iris and Hermione had removed the water after the first task and filled it instead with more pillows and blankets than they could count, creating a sort of large bed in which Iris loved to jump in and Hermione read in; the thought made her head hurt — removing all the pillows and blankets, filling it with water again, and making it deeper.

Conjuring spells were something Iris had never been able to get the hang of. She had attempted to learn the Water-Making Spell ( _Aguamenti_ ) and the Incarcerous Spell ( _Incarcerous_ ), but it was no good. Perhaps Fleur could cast the Water-Making Spell, making it much easier to fill the pool? Or perhaps she could just bring Winky down there and have her tears fill it up.

"Winky, will you _please_ stop crying? We're going to stop coming here otherwise."

All the other house-elves, including Dobby, shot a death glare at Winky. Iris saw one house-elf finger a cleaver in his hand, looking at Winky thoughtfully. Iris shot the elf a look and he relented.

"W-W-Winky is — is — is a bad elf!" Winky wailed.

"Why don't you just take her in as your 'ouse-elf?" Fleur suggested casually.

Winky's sobbing instantly ceased, and she stared wide-eyed at Fleur, amazement plastered on every inch of her face. Her head swiveled from Fleur to Iris, her eyes tearing up — not from misery, but hope. The entire kitchen grew quiet, as though Fleur had just suggested that Iris execute Winky to shut her up.

Dobby came bounding from the other side of the kitchen, a hopeful look in his eyes too.

"Iris Potter, ma'am!" Dobby and Fleur both said at the same time, the latter in a more mocking tone. Dobby blushed fiercely, and Fleur smiled down at her, half-sheepishly, half-kindly.

"Yeah, Dobby?" Iris said, still contemplating what Fleur had just said.

"Freedom does not suit Winky, Iris Potter, ma'am," Dobby said, wringing his hands. "She is needing a master or mistress, ma'am."

"Huh," Iris said, "I always figured you'd be the one to want me, Dobby."

"Oh, no, ma'am," Dobby said. "Dobby likes to work but he likes freedom too!"

Dobby looked at her apologetically, but Iris waved him off.

"Is that you want, Winky?" Iris asked, a little unnerved that Winky had not stopped staring at her this entire time.

After a moment of silence, Winky slowly gave a single nod, her expression disbelieving but hopeful still.

Iris shrugged. "Alright, sure."

Winky fainted.

She fell off her stool, sideways, her head falling into the fireplace. Dobby squeaked and ran to take her head out, but the other house-elves looked reluctant to help. Hermione would probably kill her if she ever found out, Iris couldn't help thinking, and it was likely she would find out, as Iris wasn't really planning on keeping it much of a secret.

"What exactly do I have to do?"

"I think you must go to the Ministry," said Fleur, reaching into the cauldron and picking up the golden egg she had closed. "To register your 'ouse-elf, or so it is in France."

Iris flicked her wrist and then her wand once it was in her hand. " _Ennervate_."

Winky woke up, pushed Dobby off of her instantly, and jumped a remarkable height to Iris, latching herself to Iris's chest.

"Iris Potter is taking Winky in! Iris Potter is as great as Dobby is saying!"

Iris awkwardly patted Winky on the back. "Yeah, listen, Winky — if I've got to go to the Ministry to do this, it might have to wait —"

"But Winky can serve you now, miss!" Winky said excitedly. "Winky can serve you before we is going to the Ministry of Magic! No one is knowing, _mistress_!"

"Er — right," said Iris. "I don't exactly have a home for you to take care of, so I've got nothing for you now…"

"Winky be staying here in the kitchens if you is not needing her!" said Winky, hopping down from Iris and looking like she hadn't just been drinking herself to death. She straightened her back and rushed to help the house-elves with cooking.

Dobby took in the expression on both Iris and Fleur's face. "Ah, yes," he said, and Iris fought the urge to laugh at his wise tone, "Winky knows your bond is coming. She is tiring herself now and will sleep earlier tonight, Iris Potter, ma'am, but —"

"Bond? What bond?"

"The bond between a house-elf and the master or mistress, ma'am," said Dobby.

"It gives the 'ouse-elf strength to work as much as they do," said Fleur. "Without it, they need more rest and sleep. That is correct, Dobby, non?"

Dobby nodded vigorously. "Yes, miss. Dobby does not have a bond with a witch or wizard, so he is not working as much as the others — but Dobby is okay with that, miss, for Dobby greatly enjoys his sleep!"

Fleur smiled to herself. "Don't we all?"

Iris shot Fleur an amused look. "Didn't you just wake up from a nap twenty minutes ago?"

Iris just barely caught the golden egg flung at her face.

"Yeah, you definitely need more beauty sleep," Iris said.

"You definitely need to quit staring at my breasts."

"Breasts? What breasts?"

"Chicken breasts, miss?" said a house-elf from nearby. "Right away, miss!"

"What? Wait — no!"

But it was too late, the house-elf was already making some.

Fleur looked over at Iris and gave a small, light shrug. "I could eat."

"You _just_ complained about — you know what, no. Dobby, think you could find us a cauldron big enough to fit this golden egg and our heads in it? It's got to be _very_ big" — Iris spread her arms out wide to show Dobby just how big — "if we're going to fit Fleur's big head in there."

"Dobby… _could_ find one, ma'am," Dobby said hesitantly. "Professor Snape has big ones, ma'am —"

Fleur snorted.

"— but Professor Snape has placed a spell to stop house-elves from entering his private office, says — he says — he" — Dobby seemed to swell up with indignation — "he says it is because of _you_ , Iris Potter, ma'am."

" _Me_?" said Iris.

"Yes, ma'am, says he thinks Iris Potter will use house-elves to break into his private office and his private _private_ room."

"Private _private_ room?" asked Iris, amused. "Do you have any idea how many jokes I'll have for him next time I see him?"

"A butt load," said Fleur.

"I bet he's the type to be into that."

Fleur stared straight into her eyes. "There is nothing wrong with that," she said, a little too defensively.

"Dobby is knowing a place, ma'am," interrupted Dobby. "A place where you may conjure a room for your needs."

"This conversation got incredibly dirty," Iris muttered, still feeling her cheeks burning from Fleur's comment. "What room, Dobby?"

"It is called the Come and Go Room, ma'am!"

Iris could practically feel Fleur's smirk from her side. "It's called the Come and Go Room?" Iris echoed. "Of course it is."

* * *

 **o**

 **Songs and… Snogs?**

 **o**

* * *

"I think I've lost him," said Iris, peering over the corner of a corridor.

"Only you could gain 'ouse-elf stalkers, Iris," said Fleur.

"Hey, it's not my fault the little lunatic seems to think I need chicken legs shoved down my throat — _don't_ _say it_ — and besides, I said chicken _breasts_ , not legs."

Fleur stopped pacing back and forth in the corridor, seventh floor, when the door appeared. As she stood in front of the door, inspecting it, Iris leaned against the opposite wall, taking in the sight. If she was a photographer, she would have taken a picture here; Fleur, in her robes that revealed her willowy form, standing impressively in front of large intricate doors, her silvery-blonde hair flowing down her back, wavy and slightly messy, as Fleur had kept it these last few days — ever since Iris had told her she liked it so.

And now, the both of them clutching their golden eggs, they were about to enter this room hoping for a pool. When Iris had gotten uncomfortable before, Fleur acted as though she had read her mind and had told her she'd conjure a swimming suit for her. The truth was that she hadn't read her mind. Iris could Transfigure herself one well enough, she supposed, but the thought of _Fleur_ in a swimming suit…

Iris felt butterflies in her stomach, and a growing heat between her —

"Well, let's enter, yes?" Fleur said, and she pushed one of the doors open and stepped inside. Iris heard her suck in a soft breath. "It is _magnifique_."

Iris walked in behind her.

The room immediately reminded her of the tropics. There were several tall palm trees scattered around the large pool, kidney-shaped and surrounded by large stones that added to the outdoorsy look of the room. The pool also had several golden taps at the edges of the pool, similar to the small pool in the prefect's bathroom. The stone walls could hardly be seen through the plants, vines, and sky blue drapery, which moved on its own, resembling both a beautiful sky and a silent waterfall.

She closed the door behind her and locked it with a spell just in case. When she turned around, Fleur was no longer in her fine silk robes, but rather a bikini of the same color, pale blue. Iris's mind went blissfully blank, but not because of Fleur's veela heritage. It might have been just the shock of a great first impression, but Iris thought her body was the epitome of perfection.

She suddenly felt very insecure. It was something new; she had hardly ever cared about that sort of thing before. She was never a girly type of girl, but now, she wished she had cared enough about her appearance outside of the very minimum. Maybe then she wouldn't have been so carefree about her scars; maybe then she would have took Madam Pomfrey up on her offer of getting them removed —

But did she even have the money for it? The repair cost for the Firebolt had cost her a sily amount of money, and then there were the numerous things she had bought over the last few months: the numerous things at the Quidditch World Cup, the wand holsters, getting her eyesight fixed (which had cost more than the Firebolt repair), the Essence of Dittany, the payment she had been forced to pay for Inigo, and there was surely more she was forgetting.

How many scars did she even have excluding the iconic lightning bolt? The basilisk fang's scar on her right arm; the Hungarian Horntail's stretching over her shoulder blade; the three on her left thigh from the griffin; and the numerous fang marks from Nagini and the large bat from the first task, but they could hardly be seen. Still, she found the ones on her thigh and back ugly.

"Iris?" said Fleur. "I would like to get this done soon, so we may stop worrying about it, yes? Then we can laze about — in this _beauté_ of a pool. Merde, I suppose I must apologize for all I 'ave said against 'Ogwarts. Beauxbatons does not 'ave anything like this room — or perhaps I 'ave just not found it. Would you like me to Transfigure your clothes into something suitable?"

Iris shook her head. "No, just hop in. I'll do it myself. Turn on some of those faucets too, I think they create foam and bubbles." She thought of just giving herself a full body suit, but knew Fleur would tease her and ask why, so she waited.

Fleur took in her troubled expression and frowned, but nodded anyway. She casually threw her golden egg over her shoulder, letting it fall into the middle of the pool, and then dove in. After turning on every faucet she could find, she dove down after the egg.

Iris had her wand in her hand in an instant, flicking, swishing, and jabbing to Transfigure her clothing also into a bikini, a simple black. She hopped to one of the stones outlining the pool, tossed her golden egg in too, and attempted to dive in the same way Fleur had done —

She landed directly on her belly instead.

Spluttering as she rose from the water, warm but refreshing, she turned around quickly, hoping Fleur hadn't just seen that. But she hadn't; she was still underwater and Iris was beginning to get worried. But before she could do anything, Fleur rose to the surface too. She ran her fingers over her face and through her hair, clearing the wet strands, foam, and bubbles.

"You need to listen to this," was all she said before she dived back under.

Iris took a deep breath and followed down. Before she reached the bottom of the pool, which the depth of was more so Fleur's height than hers, there was a chorus of eerie voices spreading throughout the water. Once she reached the bottom, Fleur looked at her and then closed the golden egg and motioned to behind her. Iris turned around in the water and saw her own egg lying a few feet from her. Iris turned back to Fleur in confusion and saw her making opening gestures with her hands.

Iris kicked her feet in the water, realizing she was a worse swimmer than she thought, and swam to her egg. Fleur was right behind her, her wand in her hand. She pressed the tip of it against Iris's chest once they stopped, and Iris felt her lungs fill up with oxygen again.

Then she opened her own egg —

Instantly, the bone-chilling song started up again.

" _Come seek us where our voices sound,  
We cannot sing above the ground,  
And while you're searching ponder this:  
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,  
An hour long you will have to look,  
And to recover what we took,  
But troubles lay beyond the shore,  
Creatures of the deep, runes, and more,  
Find the key within one of eight,  
And make a journey past our graves,  
Above and back below again,  
Through the door, never stop, and then,  
Take what's yours and leave while you may,  
Of the dangers, we cannot say,  
But beware once the hour is past,  
Too late, you're trapped, you won't come back._"

Iris and Fleur both broke through the calm water and swam to the edge of the pool to place their eggs in between the stones. Then they looked at each other. The foam and bubbles covering them lightened the mood slightly.

"Well," said Iris, "if that isn't the most eeriest thing ever."

Fleur stared at the golden egg. "Eerie," she said, trying out the word. "That means strange, unnerving, yes? I agree if so. It is eerie, just like the lake. What is the lake called? The black lake? The name itself is eerie."

"Not the official name, but some call it that," said Iris. "You think it involves the lake? Makes sense — cannot sing above the ground, beyond the shore, creatures of the deep…"

"What sings in the water?" Fleur asked.

Iris frowned. "I don't know. Here, hold on, we'll get to the rest later —"

Silver suddenly flowed from her wand and a doe formed half a second later, but the stream of silvery magic didn't stop; it kept rushing out of Iris's wand and into the doe.

Fleur scrunched her face up. "I still 'ave not been able to produce one."

"I'll teach you," said Iris. "Wait — shit — no! — sorry, Professor Dumbledore — for the language, I mean — and I didn't mean I'd teach this spell to anyone! But the Patronus itself, rather — I keep forgetting this thing starts recording so soon —"

And then the flow of silver stopped and the doe shot off, galloping into the wall.

"No!" Iris shouted, slapping her arms childishly against the water. "Come back, I wasn't — damn it! Can't I ever get a break?"

Fleur gave a smothered laugh, but turned it into a cough at Iris's glare. Iris raised her wand from the water and produced the spell again —

"You can do it without an incantation?" Fleur said, sounding as though she had just realized Iris wasn't using words.

"Hm? No, it doesn't require an — wait, no — don't record that!" As Iris's frustration grew, her concentration broke and the Patronus shot off into the wall once more. "You have got to be — what the hell is wrong with me? — Fleur, please, just shut up so I can do this."

Fleur didn't bother smothering her laughter this time.

Once more, Iris cast the spell. "Professor Dumbledore. I hope you ignored those two last messages. I've got a question. I know you said I shouldn't abuse this spell by constantly using it with you and Professor McGonagall, but it's important — life or death! Are there…" Iris paused for dramatic effect, hoping that McGonagall was in Dumbledore's office now to hear this: "Are there _merpeople_ in the lake?"

And finally, successfully, the doe ran off when the time was right. Iris sighed and threw her face into her palms.

"You look as though you need to relax, no?" said Fleur. "Maybe I can give you a massage?"

"Fleur, giving me a massage will do the exact opposite of relaxing me, and you know that."

Again, oddly, Iris could somehow sense Fleur was smirking.

"I didn't know a Patronus could do that," said Fleur.

"It's a spell Dumbledore created — well, he really just modified the Patronus. It's the only spell I can do nonverbally. It's supposedly easier to do than your normal nonverbal spell. And it's possible to send out messages without actually speaking, but I can't do that for the life of me."

A few moment later, a phoenix Patronus flew in from the ceiling, spiraled down, and came to rest in front of Iris. Dumbledore's voice spoke.

"What an interesting question, Iris. Why, I believe Professor McGonagall thinks so as well. It's unfortunate others cannot speak into another's Patronus Messenger. I'm sure she would have greatly enjoyed educating you on the matter. Ah, yes, yes, my apologies, Minerva. The answer to your question, Iris, is that there are indeed merpeople in the lake — a whole colony, in fact. They first settled in the lake in the early — must you take the fun out of everything, Minerva?" Dumbledore said, sounding an awful lot like a child.

The Patronus vanished, leaving the two girls with their thoughts about merpeople and whether or not Dumbledore was really a kid who had accidentally taken an Aging Potion.

"So, merpeople," Iris said.

"Merpeople who will 'ave something we will sorely miss. We will 'ave to face other creatures too, I do not doubt," said Fleur.

"And runes. Cast runes or decipher them? I can do the latter, but casting them…"

"Teach me the Patronus and I will teach you what I can of runes… An 'our long to search —"

"And if we don't get out of wherever it is we'll be, we'll be trapped inside there forever," Iris said, scowling at the egg. "I seriously hope that's an exaggeration."

Fleur snorted with disdain. "With 'ow the first task was, I doubt it. I do not believe we will be able to figure out the rest, Iris, not now. It seems like we will only understand the entire song when we are doing the task."

"Great," sighed Iris. "I'm going to become an alcoholic or pothead if this kind of stress keeps piling up on me."

"Pothead?"

Iris explained the bare minimum to her, of where she had gotten the drug, how much she had left, what it did, when she had used it, but not what had happened with Wormtail. Fleur was left unaware that anything of importance had happened that night. She did not feel as though she knew Fleur enough to begin sharing that, to talk of murder, no matter how comfortable they had gotten over the weeks with each other. Though, she had the distinct impression that Fleur wouldn't have cared if Iris had blown up half the school, much less killed someone like Wormtail.

Fleur's eyebrows rose and an impish smile crept up on her face.

"No, last time led to disaster," Iris said sternly. "Don't ask."

"And 'ow will it lead to disaster 'ere?" Fleur said, placing a hand gently on Iris's arm.

"Good point." Iris was about to get out of the pool and make her way to the Gryffindor Tower when she realized she didn't need to. She lowered herself back into the pleasantly warm water. She thought about calling for Astra, wondering if that would even work, but then remembered that Astra was still some strange liquid in a bottle, even now. "Winky!"

There was a _pop_ and Winky appeared on one of the stones, bouncing on her heels. Iris wasn't sure how Winky even knew she was calling as the so called bond hadn't been formed yet.

"Mistress calls for Winky so soon!"

"Yeah, listen, can you go into my trunk — actually, no, you can't get in. Can you _bring_ my trunk from my dorm here, Winky? I'd really appreciate —"

Winky Popped away before Iris could finish her sentence, and appeared once more before Iris could say anything to Fleur. She had her hand on Iris's trunk, but took it off to clap excitedly about doing what Iris had asked — consequently, the trunk, which was positioned awkwardly in between two stones, slid down and into the pool.

Winky stared down at the submerged trunk as though it was her own dismembered leg.

"Ah!" Iris said. "Perfect, Winky, I was going to toss it in the water anyway. I'll be placing a spell on it that requires it to be underwater, you see, so you just saved me time."

Winky's eye twitched and Iris had to fight back the urge to laugh. She nodded slowly, a hesitant smile appearing on her horror-stricken face. Then at seeing Iris's smile, she relaxed and disappeared with a _pop_.

"A spell that requires the trunk to be underwater?" repeated Fleur, sounding amused.

"Didn't want her to burst into tears," Iris muttered as she lifted the trunk from the water with a Levitation Charm.

As Iris opened her trunk and dug through her belongings, which had remained dry, Fleur took to swimming around underwater. Iris had told herself she wouldn't smoke again, but Fleur had a point — what's the worst that could happen here?

She pulled out Quirrell's wand, observing it for a moment before coming to a conclusion: she would not tell where this pipe had come from. Fleur appeared to be uncaring about many things, but how far would that indifference extend?

The pipe was loaded with the cannabis — or whatever it was — by the time Fleur had come up, right beside her. Fleur took in Iris's appearance, making Iris fidget as her gaze covered her body.

"The color brings out your eyes," she said. "The black swimsuit, it brings out the green."

Iris nodded slowly, unsure of what to say to this. Instead, she offered the lit pipe to Fleur, who hesitated for a moment before taking it.

"What do I do?" she asked.

"Put it to your lips and inhale," Iris said matter-of-factly. "Wrong end."

"My _sincerest apologies_ ," said Fleur, "I was not raised in a 'ome where this was learned — and I did not 'ave a cousin to show me."

And so the time passed inside the Come and Go Room. Iris forgot about her scars as Fleur taught her how to dive correctly, swim better, and the spell to give herself more oxygen even when underwater. In return, Iris tried to teach Fleur how to do the Patronus; Fleur's spell nearly took form as a result.

"Hey, are you hungry? I'm hungry," Iris said after she had climbed a palm tree and leapt off.

"Oui," said Fleur, "I could 'ave something to eat. Oui."

"Winky!" Iris said, and Winky appeared once more, looking immensely excited to have another order. "Winky, Fleur and I are starving. Think you can get us some food? You know what Fleur and I like to eat, yeah?"

Winky's whole body looked as though it was nodding, but it was still stiff in a way, as though showing the slightest amount of relaxation would make her mistress upset. Iris raised her wand from below the water and flicked it at Winky. A blob of foam splattered against Winky's forehead. Winky did not even blink.

"Alright, gotta stop this now — Winky, just because I'm your mistress does not mean I'm a goddess —"

"That's me."

"Shut up, Fleur. You're allowed to be more relaxed around me, alright? There's no need to stand so stiffly. Actually, here," Iris said, extending the pipe to Winky. "Put the end of this in your mouth and inhale."

"Mistress?" Winky said uncertainly. "Winky is never be doing this, mistress."

"Here, I'll show you," said Iris, and she took a hit. Winky still looked hesitant so Iris took another hit — and another — and another — and then the room began to look funny. Iris giggled for no reason. Finally, Winky took her mistress's laughter as a good sign and actually look excited to do this.

And she did it. She inhaled, and continued doing so, one long continuous inhale, and Iris began wondering how any creature suck in so much breath. Only until Fleur had her jaws hanging slightly open, did Winky stop. She stood there for a moment, swaying on the spot.

Then Winky's face relaxed into complete and unadulterated bliss.

"There you go, Winky," Iris said, smiling lazily. "So, think you can get us some food?"

And then, Winky's face hardened, her eyes went wide, they were bloodshot, completely crazed, and she whispered, "Motherfuckers," and then Popped away.

Iris, whose jaw had gone slack, looked from where Winky had been standing to Fleur and back again. "What the — Fleur, did you — did I just — is Winky about to kill someone?"

Fleur frowned. "Quelle? Why would you say that?"

"Did you not hear what she said?"

"Non, she simply vanished… _vanished_."

Iris looked down at her pipe, then tossed it out of reach. "Yep, too much. Dudley's going to be giving me foot massages all summer for this."

"Iris?"

Iris turned around, only to find Fleur standing very close to her. Her heartbeat sped up.

"Turn around," Fleur said softly, and she spun Iris around in the water before Iris had a chance to say anything. "Is this from the dragon?"

Iris stiffened slightly. "Er — yeah. Madam Pomfrey said she couldn't completely heal it." She tried turning around, feeling uncomfortable, but Fleur held her in place. "It's fine, Fleur, just leave it —"

Then she felt warm lips against the scar on her back, lingering for just a second too long.

Iris felt as though she was beginning to melt. Fleur turned her back around, and for one crazy moment, Iris thought Fleur would kiss the scars on her thigh too. She was sure that she would not only melt but become one with the pool if this happened.

"F-Fleur?"

"Are you okay, Iris?" Fleur asked.

"Y-yeah, think the food's just a little spicy."

"Food?" said Fleur, looking perplexed. "Winky 'as not come back yet."

"Yeah, well, things get all confusing when you pull this seductive stuff!" said Iris, pushing Fleur away. "I think you're a sadist. Really, it's torture. You know damn well how attracted to you I am. I can't even tell if you're into me or not and it's driving me crazy —"

She knew she was rambling, but a part of Iris hoped that Fleur would just grab her and kiss her already. If there was truly anything to make her forget how unwelcoming Hogwarts — or particularly, Hogwarts' students — had become, it would be snogging Fleur Delacour.

"Iris," Fleur interrupted. "If it does bother you like so, I will stop. I did not mean to upset you, I am just a teasing person, I only thought that it would calm you down, let you forget about your troubles."

"It's letting me forget about the _rest_ of my troubles, yeah, but it's still… Look, I don't mind the teasing or the flirting, but good god, kissing my back? Do you want me to have an orgasm in the pool?"

"Yes," Fleur said without pause. She did not mean it, but it made Iris laugh anyway, regardless of the fact that there would be no snogging tonight.


	13. Second Guessing Herself

**Author's Notes:**

I'm very on the middle in regards to this chapter. I don't think it's terrible or anything, and I liked the idea for it when I outlined this chapter, but I just felt like I couldn't pull the execution off. It's why I just capped it off at 8k words. Hopefully you like reading it more than I liked writing it.

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 **Second Guessing Herself**

 **Unknown.**

The silence.

It wasn't what woke her, but what kept her from going back to sleep. There wasn't a single sound in the dormitory outside of her own breathing. There would normally be _something_ , whether it was the other girls breathing, the wind outside rolling against the windows, a fire crackling, the turning of pages.

There was nothing.

Iris opened her eyes blearily. After lying in bed for a full minute, letting herself wake up, she did a mental check. It was Tuesday, the tenth of January, and she had Potions at nine o'clock. Judging by the empty dormitory, she gathered she was already late. She glared at Hermione's bed as if the bushy-haired witch was lying in it.

Why had Hermione not woken her? Did she anger her yesterday? As Iris couldn't even remember leaving the Room of Requirement, she began to wonder just how stoned she was the night before. Had she been so much so that she had upset Hermione in some way and could not remember?

But now that she really took the time and effort to listen, really _listen_ , it really was too quiet. She glanced over at the window nearest to her, craning her head to see behind the curtains, and was startled to see that it was night. She had assumed the lack of light in the room was due to all the curtains being closed.

Had she slept through an entire day? She hoped not. She had Snape and McGonagall today, and missing _both_ was something she was unwilling to do, even if she had stopped caring about the consequences. She might not be expelled, or care about house points, or attend any detentions, but McGonagall and Snape would both seek her out and she'd have no choice in listening to them yell at her. Not unless she Stunned them.

She slid her legs off her bed and stood up. Then she saw that she had robes on, which was strange, because she barely wore her school robes to class, much less out of class, and especially not when she went to sleep. She looked over to her dresser and saw her wand. She picked it up and immediately felt — or rather, _didn't_ feel the magic she was supposed to from her wand holster when she was attempting to will her wand to holster itself. As she patted both her arms, she learned it was because her wand holster was gone.

Iris Transfigured Hermione's entire mattress into a hair tie, tied her hair into a bun, and placed her wand into it; she had always been quicker on the draw with her wand in her hair than in her robes.

There was a creaking sound, like a door slowly opening. She turned to look at the door leading down to the common room and saw it was halfway open. What lay beyond was complete darkness. Nothing odd, as the dorm itself was rather dark, but what really unsettled her was Crookshanks. He was standing still, stiffly, staring directly into the black beyond the open door.

Iris walked slowly to him. "You alright, Crookshanks? Where's Hermione?"

Crookshanks didn't respond. He just continued staring. Iris used her foot to lift Crookshanks up slightly and turn him around. It was as though she wasn't there; the cat merely turned back around and continued staring.

Iris had to admit it — she was slightly disturbed: she swished her wand once and the door shut close — another quick flick and the door was locked. Instantly, Crookshanks looked at her with an almost frightened expression, his ears flat against his head. Then, without so much as another glance at her, Crookshanks sprinted to the other side of the room, on top of a dresser, through a curtain, and out of a window that was apparently open.

Iris stared. Truth be told, she was fairly certain Crookshanks would survive, as she had accidentally blasted him out of a window before, but the way he did it… the zero hesitation… it was as though the cat felt it was trapped in the room… as though, by closing the door, Iris hadn't kept out whatever Crookshanks was staring at, but rather locked it in with them.

In a matter of seconds, the fireplace and all the candles were lit, giving the room an orange glow that felt more eerie than it did comforting and cozy as it usually did. She would have conjured a ball of light or two as she had done so in the first task, but in an enclosed space like this, it was more likely to blind her than help her see. There was also a niggle at the back of her mind, a certain amount of trepidation, that held her wand — what if the ball of light disappeared into the shadows as it did in the Forbidden Forest? Or the Chamber of Secrets?

"Not many people who try to scare me," Iris said steadily. "But out of the ones who've tried… one was burnt to ash… one torn from his body and forced to live as a wraith… and — well, that's it, really. Most are smart enough to not try. I'd sooner blow up this entire room than give in to fear, so come out."

Silence.

But then, after a moment of it, Iris heard something. From the closed door, slow scratching noises came.

"Whoever is behind that door has five seconds to tell me who they are and what they're doing," Iris said. "Five — four — three — _Bombarda_!"

There was a faint flash of light and the door exploded outward, swinging loosely on one hinge. Maybe her fear had gotten the better of her and caused her to overpower the spell. But still, there was nothing on the other side, unless whatever it was had tumbled all the way down the stairs, but Iris doubted this — she would have likely heard it, as the stairway wasn't exactly short.

Then another sound came, something so terrifyingly similar to what she had heard the first time she had ventured into the Chamber of Secrets. A sinister kind of whistling, bone-chilling and spine-tingling — _haunting_.

The curtains flung open with her wand when Iris was a step away. She took a look outside, and to her amazement, there was a bald man sitting on top of one of the towers, somehow managing to not slide off the cone-shaped top. He was flying a kite. Iris stared at him for a moment, and then a grin appeared on her face, then she chuckled slightly — and finally, she began laughing.

She had _definitely_ smoked too much.

"Find something amusing?"

Iris shook her head at the man. "As cool as I feel smoking from a classic long stemmed pipe, I really need to do it less — or never again."

"If it takes the stress off, why?" the man said, his voice casual and only slightly gruff. Iris took a good look at him. He gave the general appearance of a friendly but average looking man. If not for the somewhat unappealing five o'clock shadow on his face, he would make a decent first impression on Uncle Vernon.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Gaunter —"

"Actually, I don't care. You're not real," Iris said, and she withdrew from the open window, but the man's last comment made its way to her.

"I'm the only thing here that isn't an illusion, Iris."

What was going on? Was this one of those extremely vivid dreams she had read about once? Or was she really hallucinating all of this? Was she staring at the wall of the hospital wing, drooling, Hermine's hand waving in front of her face, desperately trying to bring Iris back to reality?

Iris exited the dormitory at a quick pace, ignoring the dragging sound coming from beneath her bed, made her way down the stairs and found the common room empty. She checked several other dormitories, for boys and girls, and found nothing, not even anyone's pet. It seemed as though Crookshanks had only been there to unnerve her.

As she stood in the common room, trying to stay calm, the portrait door swung open and in climbed a first year she didn't know the name of. Iris let out a sigh of relief. She really was just seeing things before… and hearing things… She was definitely sending a strongly worded letter to Dudley.

The first year didn't so much as look at Iris as she passed by her and up the stairs into the first-year dormitories. Iris had to stop herself from chasing the first year down, grabbing her by the shoulders, and screaming at her that she wasn't some crazy dark witch like the _Daily Prophet_ and majority of Hogwarts claimed. It was okay to at least _acknowledge_ her.

Another Gryffindor walked in then and Iris made her way out of the Gryffindor Tower, down the stairs, all the floors, the marble staircase, and into the entrance hall. She leaned against one of the doors to the Great Hall and began scanning the faces of all the students in the Great Hall. She couldn't find Fleur. This wasn't odd, but what _was_ odd was that no one was looking at her. Over the past two weeks, all she had to do was stick a toe around the corner of this spot and everybody's head would turn.

It wasn't her ego making its presence when she thought about how they _should_ be turning to look at her. It wasn't as though they had many opportunities nowadays to whisper and point at her. She had spent so much time away from everyone that she had missed all the Triwizard Tournament duels between the non-champion students. Truthfully, she wasn't even sure they had started.

Not wanting to ruin her blessing, she turned around and walked off in the direction of the kitchens. She arrived in front of the painting of the fruit bowl much quicker than she had expected; she had likely just zoned out in her walk. She tickled the pear and walked in, hoping to find Fleur on her couch.

But Fleur wasn't there. There were no house-elves there — no house-elves except Dobby. He was in the center of the room, sharpening a large kitchen knife, and breathing heavily.

"Er — Dobby? Where is everyone? What are you doing?" she asked, admittedly a little nervous about Dobby's behavior. "Was Fleur here?"

"Iris Potter should not be here…" Dobby mumbled. "Iris Potter should _not_ be here..."

Dobby shot her a crazed, pleading look, then held the knife low to the ground before throwing it up — the knife flew upward and directly into the ceiling, which was lower than Iris had remembered, and the knife stuck to the top, where well over a hundred other knives lay — or rather, stuck. But none of them were sticking to the ceiling by the sharp ends, but rather the handles. The sharp ends were all facing downward.

Then Dobby pulled out another knife from seemingly out of nowhere.

Iris left quickly. "What the hell — what the hell — what the hell," she kept muttering over and over, running her fingers through her hair as she walked as quickly as she could away from the kitchens and back up to the Great Hall. Something _obviously_ wasn't right. Was the entire school in one some kind of sick joke? Everybody except her? No, Dobby wouldn't do that to her — _he_ , of all people, wouldn't agree to something that would frighten her like this.

When arrived at the entrance hall once again, she found the doors to the Great Hall closed, with a deathly silence hanging in the air. Even when the doors were closed before, one could always hear the muffled chatter.

But not now.

She needed fresh air. She needed to breathe, because everything around her — the very air, it seemed — was trying to suffocate her. Is this what Dudley had described as a bad trip? Could it manipulate her perception of the world _this much_? Maybe magic and muggle drugs didn't mix.

She was out of the entrance hall and outside now, attempting to fill her lungs with fresh air as quickly as she could. What _was_ this? A panic attack? Had she finally lost it? Was she really at St Mungo's Hospital now?

Iris noticed someone in the distance, right in the middle of the grounds, and they were digging. Not with their wand, but with a normal shovel. She made her way to this very large person carefully and cautiously. It was Hagrid. He didn't stop digging to look up at her, and he was mumbling under his breath.

"H-Hagrid?"

"Hello, Iris," he said. "How do you like it?"

"Like what?" Iris said, feeling confused and now also slightly afraid of even Hagrid.

"The grave, made it specially for you, Iris," Hagrid said. His voice was calm and collected, and it was not in the way Hagrid spoke; it was perfect English. It was wrong. So completely wrong, this version of Hagrid, this entire thing that kept building up her panic and she now felt as though she was falling apart, as though the world was slipping away from her fingers.

Knowing she wouldn't get any answers out of him, she didn't bother asking. "It's lovely, Hagrid," Iris said kindly, taking a step back. She saw something moving from within the Forbidden Forest, its limbs long, gangly, unnatural. "I've gotta go though, so I suppose I'll see you later, yeah? Right," she said when she received no answer, "I'm leaving then."

And she turned around and walked swiftly back up to the front doors of the castle, not failing to miss Hagrid's last comment: "Oh, no, you're not."

Wrong, wrong, _wrong_. This wasn't a panic attack, she didn't think — she had one after her second year, after she had woken up from a nightmare about the basilisk; its size had been so overwhelming, and being in her small room at the Dursleys made her feel so claustrophobic and cramped, that she had had a panic attack. But that felt different than _this_. Didn't it? She had only ever had one before. After the first one in her summer before her third year, she had simply opened the window while she went to sleep and never had a problem again. It was why she had walked outside now, to get fresh air, but _now_ , she was regretting it.

Back into the castle it was. She was at the very top step of the marble staircase when she heard a loud, deep groaning sound. She turned around just in time to see the front doors of the entrance hall close by themselves.

She tried to control her breathing, she really did, but she felt as though she was having some sort of mental breakdown. She had no time to dwell on this, however, as all the light sources in the entrance hall began going out, one by one. Iris was gone by the time the last torch had been extinguished.

The corridor she entered was silent. She was intending to go back to her dormitory, to fall back asleep and hope that when she woke, everything would be back to normal. However, as she walked, she slowly began to come to the realization that the corridor that she was completely sure led to the Gryffindor Tower wasn't in fact leading there.

Halfway through the corridor, every single torch went out. Iris was prepared for something like this: and when her ball of light disappeared into the darkness mere feet from her wand, her fears were confirmed.

Everything was fucked.

She stood in the center of the corridor, too afraid to move, too afraid to try producing another source of light — afraid that if she did so, she would see something standing right in front of her, or perhaps just outside the window next to her.

But she needn't wait long. She could only hear her own breathing, her own heartbeat, in one moment, and a second later there was a flash of light and thunder — and right after, rain: so heavy and fierce it was as though it had already been pouring for the last hour.

In that flash of lightning, the entire corridor was lit. She saw nothing. Somewhat relieved by this, she continued moving forward, somewhat sure that she wasn't having some vivid nightmare anymore. But what was it?

The downpour clashed against the windows, the sounds echoing throughout the long hall. But there was something wrong with it. A similar sound stood out from the rain. It sounded more like quick footsteps.

She didn't think she had truly gone insane. Why would she have? Sure, this year was stressing her out more so than the others, and yes, she was being pushed to new limits, but she hadn't felt as though she was on the verge of a breakdown. And then there was this nudging in the back of mind, telling her that something was _off_ with all of this, that there was a perfectly logical explanation that didn't involve her losing her mind.

There was another flash of lightning, and she saw a ball, the size of a bowling ball, rolling slowly toward a classroom door. She approached it slowly. Whatever this was, she knew she had to play along. What else was she to do? Was she to fall to the ground, wrap her arms around her knees, and cry? No, she would follow through with this nightmare like she had done so with the first task —

Another flash of lightning, the ball now rolling away from the door, and the nudging at the back of her mind became a poke. A growing feeling of dread spread throughout her, boiling just beneath the surface now, causing each hair on her body to stand on end.

As she neared the ball, her wand lit and its light covering only a foot or two of distance, she heard the damn thing bounce. It might have been the size of a bowling ball, but it certainly didn't have the weight of one. They were soft, the bouncing noises, and when she was finally close enough for her wand light to reach it, she saw that it was rolling back and forth, to the door, back away, and back to the door again.

The apprehension of what was coming grew even more. It was frustratingly strange too. Why? Just _why_ was a ball bouncing back and forth, defying the law of gravity — well, most magic defied the fundamental laws of physics, but why did it have to be so unnerving?

The ball bounced against the door again, staying perfectly flat on the ground, and the door opened slowly. The ball rolled away, stopped, and it was ready to roll into the open door now.

" _Finite Incantatem_!" Iris whispered, pointing her wand at the ball. Nothing happened. The ball rolled back toward the door, through the doorway, and just before the sound of rolling stopped, Iris made out the details of the ball, which wasn't a ball, maybe not before or maybe just not now: it looked like skin, and there two sunken in holes like eyes, a slight protrusion like a nose —

Iris stretched out her arm to give whatever was inside and the ball of skin itself more light, and to her panic, she saw two unnaturally long arms reach out from the darkness, grab the ball, and lift it to where the head of this person — this _thing_ — should be —

And from where the head should be, a large centipede-like creature also emerged from the darkness, as though it was floating, dozens of spindly legs protruding from its sides. It wiggled, as though it was a tongue.

That simmering feeling of dread hit her in full force as more of the creature began to be revealed. It felt as if something was trying to _unmake_ her and she was no longer able to breathe, staring at this creature, no longer able to even move out of complete and pure fear. A part of her screamed at her to run, to leave, to never come back, to _kill herself_ to escape what was coming. Whatever feeling of trepidation she had felt when she had heard the basilisk roaming the halls in her second year, it was nothing compared to this.

The centipede-like tongue reached out like another limb, coiling and twisting, until it was inches from her face.

It touched her. Oh, she wished it hadn't, not only because touching it put it so out of focus, so out of concentration that she was too distracted to dodge the swipe of its arm and therefore was sent into the wall… No, she had felt something very wrong when it had touched her, something otherworldly, a feeling that she couldn't make sense of. It was as if she was a two-dimensional stick figure suddenly thrust into a three-dimensional world, and she was unable to wrap her mind around just _what_ this thing really was.

And suddenly, Iris didn't want to know the rest — she got up and bolted.

It was only upon reaching the end of the corridor, barrelling through the door, and locking it that she realized she wasn't in any pain from being thrown against the wall. She found herself in the same room Fluffy had been in once she sat against the door for a few minutes, catching her breath and trying to calm herself. The trapdoor was even there. She Summoned the entire thing, causing the hinges to explode outward as her spell forced the wooden door up.

Something slammed into the door behind her.

Stupid as it might have been, as creepy as she thought it was to travel deeper within the castle in this horror, she jumped. Air rushed past her ears as she fell... and fell...

" _Arresto Momentum_."

Relief and panic washed over her as she landed — relief, because she had indeed landed safely — panic, because there was no Devil's Snare this time; what if she had not used a spell to slow herself down? But why would there have been? Surely the teachers would have removed it by now.

But there was _something_ , she noticed as she lit her wand and observed where she was. Though the creature above hadn't jumped down, was silent in fact, it seemed as though this nightmare wasn't ending just yet: her wand light refused to shine far, as it should.

There _was_ Devil's Snare, only not where it was three years prior. The long tentacle-like tendrils lay a few feet away, growing larger the further she walked alongside them. As they grew to the girth and size of her own body, she stopped. She could have sworn she had seen one twitch, and she was close to the center now, she thought, where the bundle of tendrils, creepers, and vines intertwined and lay together like a tangled up pile of string should be.

But then she noticed something. The ground, it was oddly reflective a few feet in front of her. She took a step closer, crouched down, and held her wand out further. It was water.

And with a sickening realization, she jumped back.

It wasn't Devil's Snare.

They weren't tentacle- _like_ , they were tentacles. And at this sudden understanding, maybe _because_ of it, the tentacles began withdrawing into the water. They didn't pay her any mind. As they were bigger than those of the giant squid in the lake, she was thankful for this.

As the tenth and last tentacle slid into the water, that nudging-turned-poking in the back of her mind got stronger. There was _something_ she was missing, but she could not figure it out. It was as though she was running into small clues that, if understood correctly, would help her piece together the puzzle.

"Perhaps you should follow."

Iris had never spun around so quickly in her life. Her wand was pointing in the direction of the voice, so familiar, and she had a spell on the tip of her tongue.

"If you want out of this madness, you should follow," the voice said again, female, young — like her.

"W-who are you?" Iris asked, grimacing at her own fearful stutter. "What the hell is all this?"

"It's obviously not real," the voice snarked. "And if you _truly_ lived up to your potential, if you hadn't become such a fool, if you didn't let loose, relax, ease up… then you would know… you'd have already figured this out. It's there, isn't it? You just can't seem to grab the information from your own head. _Pathetic_."

Iris could hear the sneer in the voice, the oh-so-familiar voice.

"If you had let the Sorting Hat place you in Slytherin, this wouldn't be happening. At least, not to _this_ extent. Slytherin would have honed in your skills. But no… instead, you choose Gryffindor… and you've become pathetic," she continued. There was a pitying tone in her voice. "Lazy. Incompetent. What happened to the Iris Potter before she came to Hogwarts? What happened to the Iris that the hat was convinced would make the perfect Slytherin? The resourceful, cunning Iris?"

These insults hardly bothered Iris. What were they compared to what the rest of Hogwarts had been saying? If anything, they were welcome. Without them, she'd be alone and in the dark again.

"What happened to the Iris that the Dursleys created, hm?" the voice said, and it seemed to echo from all sides. "The person she was forced to become to survive? The Iris that placed sleeping pills inside her Uncle's drink so that he wouldn't yell at her later?"

That was it. These words made her sure this was all in her head. She had never told anyone of the sleeping pills.

"Look at you, your hands shaking, scared to move any further — have you actually deluded yourself into believing you're actually worth anything? Has Hermione actually convinced you? Funnily enough, you'd think she'd be here for you now, or recently, if your life _actually mattered_. I'd say it would if you hadn't gone soft. But you have, and you're afraid of ever going back, aren't you?" The voice took on a mocking tone then, which was so familiar it might as well have been her own voice. "Oh, Dumbledore, how can you be sure I'm such a good person, what about — yada, yada, yada. Don't pretend you believe his reassurances, his false smiles, don't _act_ like you believe it."

The voice was coming closer now. Iris was hardly paying attention to it. Her mind had been trying to play with her this entire time, how was this different?

"Tell me, Iris, what will it take? Because as of now, you are playing with giants. You are stuck between two giants, and each are pulling an arm, and you, tiny, weak, and pathetic, are doing nothing to make yourself one. Do you think snark will save you here? You can leave, you only need _yourself_ — your true self. I was not sent here to help you. I was not put here by the creators of this nightmare. I am here with the answers only because _you_ have the answers, but you refuse to —"

"Yeah, listen," said Iris, "you said go after the large underwater monster thingy? I'm not exactly excited about that, but at this point, it's much preferable to listening to this rubbish."

And she dove into the water, determined to break whatever was happening to her. It was in her mind, all in her head — was it a spell? Some kind of nightmare curse? A mega-boggart? Did those even exist? Probably not. She settled on a nightmare curse. The wizarding world had more than one type of spell that altered the mind, why not a curse that would make her live out a horror movie?

But now, she could no longer control her direction. She was being pulled downward, her frantic swimming doing nothing to help her, as though a large plug had been pulled at the bottom of the lake — and maybe that's exactly what this was.

She did the same as she had done when the basilisk had pulled her into those underwater pipes: she went along with it. Instead of fighting it, she began swimming downward too, and a moment later she was pulled into a whirlpool or sorts — and she was spinning — being thrown around — surely losing all her oxygen — and then she hit something cold and hard.

Coughing up water and shivering, she gave herself a moment to assess the situation.

"What the hell…?"

It was an ice cavern, where the ice was so reflective Iris could clearly see her own reflection. And as she observed the rest, she was sure her own reflections were moving in the corner of her eyes, if only slightly. She would have assumed paranoia, if not for the only just audible whispers that seemed to be coming from these mirror versions of herself.

In the center of this vast cave, a door stood on its own, it and its doorway but nothing more. She entered through it with hardly any hesitation, only to find herself in another cavern, but now, the ice was covered in what was likely blood, and the blood that had begun to pool at the bottom of the ice was slowly making its way toward her. There was another door in the center, also covered in blood, and with the red fluid taking on a life of its own, she didn't hesitate at all this time.

She was thankful that this door didn't lead to the same cavern again, thankful that it wasn't some insane loop that would contain a difference each time she went through, like she had been fearing. She was still in a cave, but this one had no ice, and it was larger. She stood at the top of a cliff overlooking the cave, and the lake down below.

A small island stood in the center. It was like from the first task, with the horned serpent, but rather than a podium containing a portkey, a mirror stood — a familiar mirror, ancient, ornate, a golden frame with clawed feet at the bottom.

She knew that she needed to get there. For what reason she did not know, but there was nothing else to do. Her only way was forward.

" _Accio Mirror of Erised_!"

Her first thought was that it would hurt if she couldn't dodge it. Her second thought was _whoops_ ; the mirror must have had an Anti-Summoning Charm placed upon it, though she didn't know the charm to be able to suddenly jerk her arm forward — she toppled over the edge of the cliff and fell down into the water — and at the last moment, before the horror could even set in, she realized it wasn't water.

She didn't know what she was to expect, but the fact that it was _so easy_ to swim through it, perhaps easier than normal water, made her want to vomit. When she reached the island in the center, quicker and slower than she would have liked, she could already see her reflection — herself, completely covered in blood. And behind her own reflection, she saw bloodied arms, those of children's, reaching out from under the lake of blood.

Iris looked behind her and saw nothing of the sort. She turned back to the mirror and nearly gasped. Her own eyes were red, the blood gone and her skin pale, and she looked a few years older.

"Figured it out yet?"

The voice she had heard earlier came out from the mirror and she recognized it now. It was her own, but slightly older, and much, much colder.

"Don't like what you see?" her reflection spoke. "This is it, isn't it? It's no longer a dementor, no longer Lord Voldemort, it's this — _you_ — becoming what Dumbledore insists you are not. _This_ is your greatest fear, Iris." Her mirror self sneered. "Figure it out, you stupid girl. If I have the answer to this puzzle, you have it! I can't have it if you don't have it, Iris — I am you! No matter how much you deny it, no matter how many times Dumbledore tells you what a little miracle child you are, the truth is there. No one, _no one_ , can have your history and come out a better person in the end, so — stop — pretending — that —"

The mirror shattered into hundreds of little pieces, and Iris lowered her wand to her side. But the voice didn't leave completely. It laughed, and the laughter echoed throughout the cave, as though a hundred different versions of her were there.

"What are you even doing with your life, Iris?" it spoke. "Have you really deluded yourself into believing you'll have a normal life? A respectable job? What, an _Auror_? You?" The voice spoke with the tone she so often heard from Snape. "You've let yourself lose your cleverness, I doubt you're capable of becoming the caretaker, much less an _Auror_."

"Suppose I'll just become the Potions teacher then," Iris said, not able to hold back a smile.

"Ah, yes, your signature sarcasm, as recognizable as Snape's signature sneer. Very clever. If only you could use that wit to figure out why you're here."

Iris growled irritably. "Fine. You win. What do I do?"

And then the voice became silent. Iris almost screamed. What was she supposed to do? Could she even do anything to break this curse? Was it not a curse? She sat down on one of the stones of the island, letting her feet just barely touch the ground, and went over all that had happened.

The blood, there was nothing that she could think of there. Maybe it wasn't a curse but a potion? For something this intense and detailed, a potion did seem more likely, didn't it? A Stunning Spell would knock someone out for a while, yes, but a Draught of Living Death would do so indefinitely, however long it took for the drinker to be given the antidote. Did this potion need her blood, and was this why the ice cavern was covered in it and this pool too?

She thought back further. The large tentacles — the giant squid — no, there was nothing there. The trapdoor, Fluffy, the strange creature that picked up the ball — no, nothing there either, or she didn't think. Dobby's creepy behavior, Hagrid's creepy behavior, the bald man's creepy behavior — none of it was triggering anything in her brain.

She thought back to the Great Hall, when she had looked in. Faintly thinking of it, she couldn't remember any familiar faces sticking out, not even at the staff table. She closed her eyes and reimagined it in her mind's eye, but still, not a single familiar face stood out. But it wasn't as though she had an eidetic memory, how could she be sure there were no people she knew in the Great Hall?

She thought back to as far as she could. After spending time with Fleur in the Room of Requirement, she had… she had what? She imagined she had gone to her dormitory and fallen asleep, and then what? She awoke, she did a mental check —

The tenth of January.

Her own words came swimming to the front of her mind.

 _If it's not also on the tenth, that might mean the second task, the one we're not supposed to know the date of, will be held around the tenth._

If her duel with Viktor Krum was on the fifteenth, instead of on the tenth like every other duel, than the second task could be around the tenth of January — or _on_ the tenth of January. This was it, it had to be, there was no better explanation. It still must have been some kind of curse or potion, but it was from the — oh, no, they surely didn't, Iris thought, a sudden fiery rage exploding within her.

The sweet, glorious relief that should have swept over her as the blood began drain away did not come. She stood up, her nostrils flaring, eyes flashing with fury —

"Took you long enough."

Iris spun around, her wand already up, only to find that twisted, horrible version of herself staring back at her, stepping through the broken mirror's frame. "You!"

"Me," her other self replied, smirking. "You know, ten year old you would have been able to figure this out in half the time. I suppose having such a brilliant best friend can do that, get you lazy and all that. One last thing, Iris," she said, as she too was beginning to fade away, "how do you think they'll be able to score you if they didn't see all this? The first task had hundreds of spectators after all…"

Iris stood from the chair she found herself sitting in, and immediately fell to her knees, breathing hard.

"Potter, are you okay?"

Iris looked up. It was McGonagall. Behind her was Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Bagman, Barty Crouch, Moody, and the other three champions, all three looking pale and clammy. They were all in the antechamber just off the Great Hall.

"Can you stand up, Potter?" asked McGonagall. "We were about to end it soon anyway, it was too much, but then you began figuring it out and we —"

"This really was the second task, then?" Iris asked harshly, barely managing to keep her temper down. " _This_? And was everyone watching like I think they were?"

"I — unfortunately," McGonagall said, not sounding too happy about it either. "It was a potion and a spell, you see, the potion designed to let you into an extremely vivid nightmare of sorts, the spell designed to retrieve what you were experiencing — and then _another_ spell made to show an audience —"

"I don't care!" Iris burst out. "I don't care how the bloody thing worked, what the _fuck_ were you all thinking?! Did you see what was happening? How the hell did you think that was okay? What kind of sick, twisted, horrible people are you?" Iris tried to push past McGonagall to leave, just barely understanding underneath all her anger that she should scream elsewhere. No matter how justified she felt in screaming her lungs out, these fools would still see her as throwing a temper tantrum — they knew _nothing_.

"The potion wasn't meant to bring out… _that_!" said McGonagall, though her anger was directed at Bagman and Crouch rather than her. "This task was meant to test the champion's mental fortitude and resistance, similar to what one might need to resist the Imperius Curse. All the other champions had horrible things appear, yes, but nothing nearly as frightening, as terrible — we had to let a lot of the younger years leave, even some your age — they were shaking in fright when that horrible beast —"

"And they saw it all on a screen!" Iris exclaimed angrily. "Do you know how bloody _real_ that all felt? I thought I was going insane! I thought I was losing my mind! They couldn't handle it on a bloody screen, and I — I had to deal with it in person! This was worse than the first task — what the _fuck_ were they thinking?!" Iris was walking up the stairs leading to the Great Hall by this point, ready to blow the entire door open if she must.

She needn't have, as the door swung open by itself; she was certain it was her own magic lashing out; she couldn't remember the last time she was this furious, this disbelieving of what had just occurred… Did they really think this wasn't crossing an enormous line? This was something she'd expect out of Voldemort! Not some tournament designers.

She stepped out into the Great Hall and began making her way past the staff table, where the other professors sat, when she realized the place was completely full. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were staring up at her as she breathed heavily, growing more and more enraged with what had just happened, with how her own privacy and her own fears had just been displayed to everyone like she was some common _zoo_ _animal_!

"Well, you were in no _real_ harm," said Bagman, following her and looking as nervous as always when Iris was angry, "not like the first task, at least — no physical pain, I mean — it was an elaborate illusion, you see."

Iris gave him an incredulous look. " _Oooh_ , no _real_ harm," she mocked, throwing her hands up in the air sarcastically, "yeah, Potter might never sleep again, but so long as she isn't bleeding to death — well! — what's to worry about then? Did those goblins beat your brain into incompetence, Bagman, or did every tournament designer have to sign a magical contract that forced them to become a complete _idiot_?!" Her voice grew more hysterical the longer she went, becoming an outright shriek at the last word.

Dumbledore appeared from behind Bagman, looking grave. "Iris, perhaps we should move to this to a —"

"No!" Iris shrieked, turning on Dumbledore now, not caring that many people were watching her lose her mind. "You! How could _you_ approve of this? Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to go through something like that? Where you couldn't even trust your own brain?!"

"Iris, Professor McGonagall was correct, we did not expect the simulation to become as dreadful as it did," Dumbledore said. "The other champions did not have such violent and horrible experiences."

This did nothing to calm Iris down.

"I think she's really having a mental breakdown ," Iris heard someone whisper loudly from the four house tables. She wheeled around, looking quite demented as she tried to find who had said it.

"No — _don't touch me!_ — I take back what I said, Dumbledore! I'm done! None of you have any respect for me — _none of you_! I'm not listening anymore, expel me, kick me out, give me a hundred detentions, take away points — fuck your points, a thousand fucking points from Hogwarts! _What_?!" she screamed at the students staring at her in fright as she stepped down from the platform where the staff table sat.

"This is what you've all been gossiping about, hasn't it?" she continued. "Whispering to each other in the corridors, pointing fingers — crazy Parselmouth Potter! Don't know why I expected any less from a society that makes love potions and Memory Charms legal, it's really no surprise half of you have siblings for parents — ah, McGonagall, so sorry, Professor! This isn't what you wanted, right? Your good ol' Hogwarts embarrassment making another fool out of herself!"

These last words were shouted as she walked backward and outward of the Great Hall. She didn't have her wand on her, apparently, for if she did she would have used it to shut the doors with an almighty bang.

Her blood was pounding in her ears. She didn't even care if Rita Skeeter had just seen that. Fleur was right. Indifference would claim her, only much sooner than either of the two had thought. It would be more than indifference though. If they thought her crazy and dark, she was going to reap the benefits of it.

Forget denying the claims of her being dark, evil, insane — she was going to embrace them from now on. If playing nice led to this, to feeling as though she really was going insane, then what was the point? If _not_ acting evil caused people to still believe her so, why would she bother following their rules? It wasn't as though they could arrest her if she herself admitted to being dark. Maybe this way they would all stop their whispering and pointing whenever they were nearby, even if it would be out of fear. She didn't care anymore.

"Iris!"

Iris recognized Hermione's voice, but she didn't stop making her way to her dormitory. She was planning on a long ride on her Firebolt — far, far away from _everybody_ , including Hermione.

"Hermione, _don't_ , just don't."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Iris!" Hermione cried. "The task for the other champions weren't nearly as bad —"

"Task?" Iris said, stopping and turning around. "You call _that_ a task? That was cruel, Hermione! That was plain cruelty, and I don't even know how they expect to score me on that!"

"Well," Hermione said, wringing her hands, "they told us about the task before it started. It was meant to test how you react to fear and failure. Only thing is, you didn't exactly fail... I don't know if they'll be giving points or taking away them for that. All the other champions ran into dead ends, ended up getting mauled by creatures. They didn't _feel_ it, of course, but when you have your body torn in half by a hydra and then find yourself back to a previous room alive and dandy, well, you might consider that a failure."

"You're rambling again."

"Right. They scored the other champions by how fast they realized why they were there, how well they dealt with the things they came across, how they dealt with failure, and how they dealt with fear, the unknown, and overwhelming situations in general. It's five judges scoring you like they did with the dragon."

"Well! I'm sure I did great then," Iris said sarcastically. "After mouthing off to Dumbledore, calling the wizarding world a bunch of inbreds, and Bagman an incompetent idiot, I'm sure they'll give me great marks!"

"I think you actually beat the times of all three champions," Hermione said. "Their nightmares were a bit tame compared to yours, so it took them longer to realize what was happening wasn't some joke or — or —"

"One of Hagrid's experiments gone wrong?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "All three ran into some kind of magical creature, things like manticores, acromantulas, hydras. None ran into… whatever it was _that thing_ was, with the long arms and legs and no face —" Hermione shuddered.

"What? No face?"

"Well, you didn't see because you were too busy running from it. You should have heard Professor McGonagall, we could hear her screaming at Bagman and Crouch from in the Great Hall. She was furious. She wanted to shut it all down, but apparently they couldn't because of the magical contract, but it wasn't supposed to be that bad, Iris —"

"Yeah, well, poor Iris has such a messed up mind that normal magical creatures aren't horrifying enough for her, are they? Been desensitized to it all, haven't I?" Iris said. "What time is it? Is it past noon? If they made me miss my incantation, I swear —"

"You've got about thirty minutes before noon," Hermione said.

"Can I use your wand then? I don't know where they left mine — thanks," Iris said, taking Hermione's wand and pointing it at her own chest. " _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_."

The sudden feeling of having the ground beneath her disappear brought back the recent memory of her falling into the pool of blood.

"Just — just leave me alone right now. I don't want to talk to anyone right now. I'll be in —"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, and then threw herself at her, wrapping Iris in her arms. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," she whispered. "I was stupid, jealous, and — and —"

"A bitch of biblical proportions?" Iris grumbled.

"You know I wasn't anywhere near that bad, Iris, be quiet."

Iris breathed in Hermione's scent. "Okay."

And she hugged Hermione back.


	14. The Parselmouth Product

**Author's Notes:**

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews for last chapter! Even if I don't reply to your review personally, I do read it, appreciate it, and look forward to more of them.

This chapter was uploaded on Jan 25 and rewritten on Jan 30. If you read it before the 30th, the humor has been toned down, the tone quite not as lighthearted as it was before, and I've attempted to make it flow better from last chapter to this one.

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

 **The Parselmouth Product**

 **Gryffindor Tower...**

A few days after the atrocity that the lunatics of the wizarding world called the second task, Iris was to be found in her dormitory, hunched over her desk, making use of the generous amount of space. After seeing what kind of lengths the tournament was willing to go with the champions, intentional or not, Iris had become slightly obsessed with the golden egg.

"You're not _slightly_ obsessed, Iris," Hermione said gently, as a thunderstorm raged outside, placing both of her hands on Iris's shoulders in an attempt to get her up, to move and get the blood flowing to her legs. "You've become completely obsessed."

Hermione tried very hard to not say anything about the ripped pages stuck to the wall with Sticking Charms, obviously from some library book, or rather — Hermione hated to think it — _books_ , in the plural. When Iris had screamed to the Great Hall that she was done caring about rules, _she meant it_. And so there were pages from books on Ancient Runes, magical creatures, and underwater creatures specifically; Iris's own parchment with notes, and Iris's own writing written outright on the desk itself; pictures of magical creatures, merpeople, of locations Iris had Colin Creevey take pictures of around the lake, and things that appeared completely unrelated to anything.

And as lightning flashed, lighting the room in a blue glow rather than the orange of that of the fire, the runic alphabet Iris had drawn was illuminated, on all edges of her desk. Hermione couldn't even recognize some of them. Apparently Iris was further along in Ancient Runes than even Iris herself realized.

"Is this really all necessary?" Hermione said, trying not to laugh at Iris's offended look. "You don't think you're overdoing it here?"

"You think I'm overdoing it, do you?" Iris said. "You saw what the second task was, Hermione. I thought they couldn't beat the first task in sheer — sheer ludicrousness. Actually, no, ludicrousness implies that there's some amusement there. There isn't. I'm surrounded by fools, Hermione — even I'm one."

"When's the last time you got some rest?"

Iris looked at Hermione with slightly bloodshot eyes. "What's the date?"

"January thirteenth," Hermione said flatly.

There was a moment of silence as Iris stared at Hermione. "And the year?"

Hermione couldn't help it; she snorted with laughter. "Come here," she said, raising her arms. Iris fell into them from her chair, a small smile quirked on her lips. Hermione wrapped an arm around Iris's head and pulled it to her chest as Iris too sat down. "Iris, I don't think the song is even meant to tell you everything you'll face. I've looked over it too and what we have now. Really, what you and Fleur figured out is all that I think we can get from it. You even brought her up here yesterday and —"

"No," said Iris, "I think they'll be a door underwater that we'll need to open by deciphering runes. Fleur and I didn't think of that before. There could be more."

"Even if there is, you can't possibly think of _everything_."

"Unacceptable," Iris said, her voice muffled by Hermione's chest.

Hermione laughed again. "You're hopeless."

Iris hugged Hermione tighter. "God, I missed you. Let's never fight again, Hermione. We'll stick together no matter what, okay? Support each other no matter what."

Hermione smiled and hugged tighter too. "No matter what."

"Great," Iris said, withdrawing from the hug. "I think I'm going to have to rob Snape's office."

"And _I_ ," Hermione began, not at all surprised by this declaration, "will have nothing to do with it. No, I don't even want to hear the plan."

"Well, I don't really have one," Iris admitted. "I was thinking of just staying after class in my Invisibility Cloak and Stunning him, you know? Hopefully he actually has gillyweed." Iris looked back to her desk. "Think I should move all this to the Chamber? I think so — speaking of, I need to talk to Sal."

"Sal?" Hermione asked.

"Salazar," Iris said. "I was serious when I said I was becoming the Heir of Slytherin. Or heiress, never really understood which one."

"I'm well aware you're serious about it," said Hermione, "but don't you think, and I believe I've said this before —"

"Six times."

"— that by becoming Lady Slytherin or whatever it is —"

"Only losers name themselves something like that."

"— you'll be only reinforcing everybody's idea that you're… you know…"

"And speaking of," Iris said, ignoring Hermione, "I think that's another point. _Lord_ Voldemort wants to go and ruin my life — making me miss the Quidditch finals my first year, nearly killing me with that basilisk my second year, the whole Pettigrew mess last year and this one, and — what am I missing?"

"Killing your parents?"

"Yes, that," Iris said absently. "He decided to dedicate his life to ruining _mine_ , so why shouldn't I do the same? Well, maybe not _dedicate_ my life to it, but give him a right kick up the balls — metaphorically, I mean. I don't think he actually has balls anymore. It would certainly explain why his voice is so high."

"So you're really going to adopt a child to pass on the Slytherin line?" Hermione asked, sounding skeptical.

"Not _now_ , Hermione," Iris said, getting back to her desk. "Actually, probably not ever, but Salazar doesn't need to know that, does he? So, yeah, getting back at the lunatic that's made my June's begin to suck —"

"And killed your parents," Hermione supplied.

"Exactly. But also, I think that if I do this, and maybe declare myself a Dark Lady, everybody will realize it's absolutely ridiculous —"

"Wait, Iris, what?"

"— I mean, a fourteen year old? Really? No one can take that seriously."

"Iris —"

"The wizarding world isn't that stupid, which is really saying how stupid the idea is. Plus I'm tiny. Really, look at me."

"Iris, for the love of all I hold dear, please slow down," said Hermione. "Let's rewind for a second, okay? _Dark Lady_? Okay, no, we need to talk."

Iris grimaced, having heard this tone from Hermione before.

"This is too much. You're doing it again." Hermione grabbed Iris's quill out of her hand as she scribbled something down. "Stop and _think_ for one moment. You're not doing okay after the second task. You need to slow down, take a breath, _sleep_ , and realize that you're being completely, _utterly_ , ridiculous. Insane. And it's obviously all fake. Stop acting fine when you're not!"

"Okay, fine. Sorry." Iris began poking what looked like a lemon drop in the corner of her desk. "The pineapple juice has finally dried. Let's hope it doesn't ruin it."

"Ruin what? What is that, some sweet?"

"It's the key to all my troubles, Hermione, the key to all my troubles…"

"The key to all your… We're talking about this, right?" Hermione said, pointing to the yellow candy.

Iris grinned. "Aye, that."

' _Aye_?' Hermione mouthed soundlessly. "I knew you were eavesdropping when I explained pirates to Ron this morning…"

"How is Ron?"

Hermione sighed. "Still the same. He's not angry at you — hasn't been for a while now, really, but he doesn't know how to approach you. He knows you know that he fancies you, and with you knowing he knows about your preference, he thinks it'll be awkward."

"Right," said Iris. "Well, tell him that once I declare myself a Dark Lady, he'll need to make up his mind. I won't hold my inner circle open for him forever."

"Inner circle?"

"Kneel."

"I — I will not kneel!" said Hermione, sounding and looking half-scandalized, half-amused.

Iris smiled weakly, and just as weakly, said, "You've missed this, haven't you?"

Hermione looked to be fighting hard to keep a smile off her face, but then, begrudgingly, she grumbled, "Yes, I have. It was rather quiet around here without your casual insanity."

Iris managed to keep the grimace off her face, but Hermione's last word still stirred something inside her. Ever since the second task, she had been fidgety. She kept expecting any normal situation to descend into the madness as it had in the task. It was hard to relax, to even sleep, when she half expected a centipede-like tongue to erupt out of Hermione's mouth at any given moment.

Hermione had noticed this too, her twitchiness, as had Professor McGonagall. Iris would never tell Professor McGonagall how her often questions about how she was doing were irritating her. She appreciated it far too much to let it stop, no matter how much she didn't want to talk about it.

Professor McGonagall was taking her side completely on the matter, and funnily enough, it made Iris actually respect her classroom — and not in the way that made her stop Fred and George from throwing dungbombs in the classroom during breaks, though that too, but in the way that Iris now paid attention in class, kept her language under control, and even helped struggling students, in and out of class — though, there weren't many that were willing to accept her help. Iris sometimes heard their whispers: "If her greatest fear is turning dark, then it's a possibility, isn't it? If it wasn't, it wouldn't be a fear!"

The _Daily Prophet's_ coverage of the task didn't help, but to her slight surprise, the article that had covered it wasn't written by Rita Skeeter and it wasn't nearly as bad as some of the ones about her that came before. There weren't any ridiculous suggestive questions such as: "If Parselmouths have been known to be dark, will Potter be the same?" It was simply stating the facts, not that the facts were at all pleasant. But still, it seemed as though letting Rita Skeeter do the article on the second task would have been too much, would have oversaturated the negativity surrounding Iris.

After all, she hadn't gone and killed anyone, had she? Not that they knew, at least.

Iris skipped every single class today. She did show up to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but when she had found out they were to be learning things she already knew, she stood up and left.

All Moody did was give her his lessons plans during lunch, telling her: "If you're not going to attend class for something you already know, Potter, then don't bother coming in the first place — here," he said when Iris opened her mouth to ask him how in the world she'd even know before actually showing up, and he handed her a few stacks of parchment. "Lesson plans, Potter. Do yourself a favor and use these to study ahead. I doubt the tasks are going to get any easier."

Iris visited Dumbledore's office that evening, bypassing the stone gargoyle with another lucky guess and finding herself in an empty room a moment later. She supposed the people who talked of how she was treated differently than others were right, because she doubted any other students would have been welcomed into the headmaster's office by the majority of the portraits. But no other students had saved the school from closing, stopped Voldemort from returning to power twice within the very walls of Hogwarts, given the gift of Salazar Slytherin's portrait, or had been forced to go through what she had.

"Professor Dumbledore here?" Iris asked, ignoring Salazar Slytherin's whispered hisses.

"He left a few minutes ago, dear," said the kind voice from the portrait of Dilys Derwent, an elderly witch, with hair of silver ringlets. "Went to dinner. He was going to ask you to join him here after, I believe."

"Oh. Right. Did he tell you why?"

"No, I'm afraid not, but I don't believe you're in trouble," said Dilys Derwent. "He might want to see if you're doing okay after the second task. He told us about it, you know. It sounded terrible, dear. Are you doing well?"

"Bah! She's doing just fine!" said Salazar Slytherin. "My heir wouldn't lose her mind to such trivialities."

"Salazar," chided Dilys Derwent. "Be a little —"

"Actually, that's one of the reasons I came here," Iris said. "I'll do it. I'll become your heir. Or heiress. Whatever. But I want those books, and anything else you've hidden away. I can do whatever's necessary next week."

Salazar nodded knowingly, as though he always knew Iris would come around. "There's actually _two_ hidden spots —"

"Tomorrow."

"One is a large room, very nice," continued Salazar, smiling widely, "and another is a small vault inside that hidden room. I only gave Tom Riddle the room, but no more. You'll find more books than you know what to do with there, some exceedingly rare, some incredibly common."

"Would I be able to find information on rituals?" Iris asked, thinking of the graveyard. "Blood rituals?"

"Certainly," Salazar said. "There's much more than that too! There's even my own personal Time-Turner, but I had someone use it once. Never saw him again! Shame." But the wicked grin on his face made it clear that it wasn't a shame at all. "But really, don't use it."

"Noted," Iris said dryly.

"And of course, my ring! I always thought that Tom Riddle fellow was a bit shifty, don't you know?"

"More than ever," Iris said, sitting in Dumbledore's chair and throwing her feet on his desk. A few of the portraits grumbled. "Go on."

"Well, you _do_ _know_ of my ring, don't you?"

"No idea."

"One of the four! Don't you read?" Salazar frowned down at her. "All four founders had a ring. Each had powers to it, but not many knew of that… no, most believed us to each have one object… Be lucky you're hearing of this!"

"Er — shouldn't we be worried about the other portraits then?" Iris said, and at her words, the other portraits erupted in protests ("We want to hear!" "This is new to us, let us listen!" "We've heard nothing this interesting since Dumbledore and Snape talked about —" "Everard, be quiet!").

"Ha!" barked Salazar. "They practically praise me! They're all headmasters, and _I_ , Salazar Slytherin, am a _founder_ of the very school they — er — headmastered."

Iris snorted. She actually agreed with Voldemort. Salazar Slytherin's portrait _had_ gone insane in the centuries he spent alone with nothing but a sleeping basilisk for company.

"Now… Godric's ring would summon ethereal weapons —"

"Really?" Iris said, flicking a sugared butterfly wing in the air and catching it with her mouth; Dumbledore had a whole bowl of them on his desk. "That's neat."

"Stop interrupting me!" Salazar said. "Where was I? Ah, yes, Godric's would do more than this bit, but he never told me. But it could summon a sword, axe, dagger, even arrows, and anything of that sort to the hand wearing the ring. Nearly killed me with it, he did! Suppose I shouldn't have summoned the snake that ate his lion cub. But really, how many lions did the man need? I could barely get into his house without being nearly eaten!"

"You're like a combination of me and Hermione," Iris said, giving a laugh. "A rambling madman."

"Helga's ring," Salazar said loudly, "had the ability to place Refilling Charms on drinks, Engorgement Charms and Doubling Charms on foods, conjure water, and I believe it kept the wearer never thirsty nor hungry — not that it stopped Helga from eating anyway. There was some other rubbish to the ring I can't remember too."

"How?" asked Iris. "Wasn't she and Gryffindor your friend?"

"It's been a thousand years, of course I can't remember," Salazar said. "Rowena's ring was all about the mind. The Confundus Charm, Cheering Charm, Legilimency Spell, and even the Memory Charm — yes, Rowena Ravencunt often used all four on me."

"That one sounds the best of all," Iris said. "But what's the difference between the rings and just using a wand?"

"Plenty," Salazar grunted, looking annoyed that she liked Rowena Ravenclaw's ring most. "It makes it look as though you're doing it wandlessly, which looks impressive. The spells were easier to use as well, as the rings were tuned to those specific spells. Didn't take as much effort to do the spells, you understand? It's much more subtle to use a ring too. Rowena needn't raise her wand or even take it out to manipulate the mind. Sly woman, her. She was more Slytherin than me!"

"And what was your ring? Summoning snakes?"

"Ah, my ring! It was able to — wait, how did you know?"

"You said you summoned a snake to eat one of Gryffindor's lions. Is that it though? Kinda pathetic compared to the rest," Iris said, enjoying seeing Salazar's offended look.

"Of course that wasn't it!" he said. "Yes, it summoned snakes. Small snakes, venomous snakes, large snakes, large enough to swallow you whole! If you were talented enough at conjuring, that is."

"Were you not?" Iris said, smirking.

"Of course I was. One of them swallowed a fully grown lion of Godric's once. He didn't know, of course — both that it was my snake that did so and also that my ring could even do such a thing. He checked the last spells used on my wand and couldn't find anything incriminating! Ha, the fool!"

"Why were you summoning snakes to eat his lions?"

"And that wasn't all the ring did, naturally." Salazar ignored her question. "The hand the ring lay on would be able to constrict objects, similar to the method a snake would use as it constricted its body around its prey."

"What, it'd give my hand one hell of a grip?" Iris asked.

"It wouldn't be the same as constricting, but essentially, yes, it would give that hand the power to crush and break objects — within reason, of course. I once used it to crush the throat of one of Godric's lions —"

"What is with you and his lions?"

"It attacked me first!" Salazar said rather defensively, clutching his staff close to his chest, as though it would protect him from accusations. "I could have used my wand, of course, but that's not nearly as much fun — nor as satisfying. The ring will also neutralize any poisons that enter your bloodstream, and allow you to take control of any snakes you summon from the ring, see through their eyes, and control them."

"Hm. You tie with Ravenclaw," Iris said. "Maybe."

"Rowena's ring is likely lost, but _mine_ , mine you will get from the vault," Salazar said. "It'll be most useful."

Iris looked doubtful at this. "But I can hardly conjure a hair tie," she said. "I doubt I'd be able to conjure a small snake, much less some enormous, intimidating one. And I don't need a strong grip. If I want to crush something, a Reductor Curse would do, wouldn't it?"

"Bah! You children never understand _finesse_. Subtlety, girl, subtlety! And not just that, but it's easier to conjure snakes with the ring than it is with a wand, _like I already mentioned_ ," he hissed in Parseltongue. "If you are disarmed, you have the ring. If you need to impress or frighten your enemy with impressive, wandless magic, you have the ring. If somebody grabs you, you grab them back and crush their wrist, then you claim you didn't realize your own strength!

"If you wish to control a snake and see through its eyes, you have the ring! You need not use the Imperius Curse with _Alterius_ _Oculi_ _Seruare_ , which is a mouthful! And it wouldn't even work the same! You wouldn't have control over the snake with the Imperius Curse like you would your own body, would you? You've undoubtedly used the Imperius Curse by now, so you understand; you would have to command the snake to move left when you want it to move left, to move right when you want it to move right — it's downright exhausting, let me tell you!"

Iris had to concede the point. If she could manage it, conjuring a snake and controlling it could help her with her plan in robbing Snape — the plan of which she named _Steal Severus Snape's Stash_ , for that sweet, sweet alliteration. Thinking of it now, she probably shouldn't have written down her current plan and left it on her desk.

Sure, she had placed parchment over it to cover it, and yes, the other girls in the dormitory wouldn't dare investigate; Fay simply knew not to mess with anyone's things, and though Lavender and Parvati weren't claiming her a dark witch, they would know not to mess with her things.

But regardless, she doubted McGonagall's support extended quite that far, and she did have access to the dormitories.

"What else is in the vault or room?" Iris asked in the middle of Salazar's ramblings about when he had attempted to use the Imperius Curse to control an animal and also look through its eyes.

"My personal chess set! Oh, how I miss playing chess…"

"If you can leave your portrait," Iris said, thinking that she knew what to get Ron for his birthday now, "I've seen other portraits throughout the school where the occupants had chess boards."

"And mingle with the commoners?" asked Salazar, sounding displeased with the very idea. "Nonsense. There are also plenty of other things in my private library."

"Wasn't the room you were in your private library?"

"No, I let people into that. Not many, mind you, but you would be the second person in a thousand years to enter my real private library, where those rare books are, where some of my own notes lay. It also has direct access to the lake."

Iris perked up at this. "What? How?"

"There's a high archway directly across the door you enter into the room through," Salazar said. "Past it is the water. You can see creatures swim by. Magic keeps the water from falling in, of course, acting like thick glass. But it isn't. You can step right in. Of course, the sudden change in pressure might kill you, so I carved in the incantation for a spell to fix it within the archway — I almost forgot several times, so I decided I needed a reminder anytime I got near the passage. Made the spell myself," he added, sounding pleased with himself.

Iris was already thinking of how she could use this to cheat in the third task.

"So how do I get in there?"

"Oh no," Salazar said, "you must become the heir first. Not only will I not tell you if you're not, you wouldn't be _able_ to. I've safeguarded the room, enchanted it so that the heir — and _only_ the heir! — can open it. The heir can bring in people, of course, but only they — not even others who have my blood — will be able to _open it._ As of now, Tom Riddle is the only living person with the ability to do so… but once you become my heir, not even he will be able to open it."

"Right. How do I become the heir then?"

"We can do it here! Perhaps you should find yourself a Blood-Replenishing Potion first."

"No need." Iris pulled out a vial from her Gryffindor messenger bag. "Decided to keep one of these with me at all times. Blood-Replenishing Potion," she added at Salazar's curious look. "I've gotten far too close to bleeding to death far too many times over the last two months. Thought I'd keep a few vials of potions with me. Took them all from Madam Pomfrey. She was actually happy about it, wanted to give me ten Blood-Replenishing Potions — _just in case_ , she said. Psh."

"Is that it?" Salazar looked unimpressed. "Ask for twenty. I will not have my heir die from lack of blood! Of all things, _really_."

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't have room in my bag for all that. Undetectable Extension Charms are strictly moderated and limited by the Ministry, so my bag only had about double the room of what it appears. I took three Blood-Replenishing Potions instead, two in my bag, one on my person; two Pepper-Up Potions — they were created after your time, cures colds, warms you up, and just makes you feel better; some healing paste for burns, guess she expects me to run into another dragon; a Mandrake Restorative Draught that she had leftover from two years ago, don't know how she expects me to use that if I'm Petrified; she even gave me a Wolfsbane Potion in case I spontaneously become a werewolf or something, and those are supposed to be expensive; and an Antidote to Common Poisons — though, I suppose I won't need that."

Salazar shook his head smugly. "Nay, the ring will stop all poisons. Even that of basilisk venom."

"Eh, I think I'm already immune to any snake venom — basilisk venom included. Phoenix tears. Or at least resistant to it."

"Hmm." Salazar rubbed his chin in thought. "Yes, I suppose that might do it, phoenix tears. My heir would of course be powerful enough to contain the phoenix tears within their body." Iris snorted at this. "The healer — Madam Pomfrey was her name? — ask her to teach you healing magic."

"I already know the Minor Healing Spell, _Episkey_ ," Iris said. "Besides, that sort of thing is supposed to be really tough to learn, isn't it? The Moderate Healing Spell is difficult to learn, nevermind the _Major_ Healing Spell — actually, I don't even think there is a Major Healing Spell… nor a moderate one now that I think of it... I think there's just a load of powerful healing spells that apply to different severe injuries... You can only learn from Madam Pomfrey in your sixth or seventh year anyway, and even that barely gets you anywhere."

"Did you not learn the Patronus Charm at the age of thirteen?"

"Can we get to this thing already?" Iris held her wand and Blood-Replenishing Potion up, looking pointedly at Salazar and her own wrist.

"Ah, yes, my apologies — you should consider yourself very lucky, you know, that I'm apologizing. Not many people have heard me apologize to them, but since you are my heir —"

Iris tapped her foot loudly against the top of Dumbledore's desk. "I will leave right now if you don't shut up and get on with it."

"Yes, yes, my apologies — ha! There you are again." Salazar coughed at Iris's glare. "Now, how much do you know of runes — specifically, blood runes? How do you draw them?"

"Er — you use your wand, or if the rune needs to be small or have a lot of small details, you use a quill that comes from a magical creature. You wouldn't use a goose feather as a quill to draw a rune. You'd have to use a quill made from something like a thunderbird... or a phoenix... a jobberknoll, that sort of thing — would the strength of a rune depend on the type of feather use?" Iris asked suddenly. "I mean, would a phoenix feather and a diricawl feather be the same? Or would the phoenix feather make it stronger?"

Salazar coughed again, this time to clear his throat rather than out of embarrassment. And in a more composed voice, he spoke.

"You were correct," he said. "It is possible to use a wand to draw runes, blood or not. There are two ways to do this. One, by _manually_ drawing the rune. This is easier than the second method, but it limits you. The tip of a wand is much larger than the tip of a quill — if you've ever tried using your wand with ink, you would know. I certainly do. The second method doesn't involve marking the area with the tip of your wand against the surface. Rather, it is about picturing the rune, _clearly_ , in your mind's eye and using that picture to place the rune simply by pointing your wand at the surface. You needn't even place the tip against it. It's about _willing_ a picture in your mind to appear."

"Why use that though?" Iris asked. "It's never really explained in the books I've read about it. I've tried, but I can only picture the simplest of runes in my mind. Wouldn't using a quill be easier?"

" _Occlumency_ ," Salazar said. "You may employ Occlumency to aid you, but this method is for the most advanced. But with it, runes are created with much, much greater speed. And, sometimes, a rune is so complicated, so intricate, that not even a quill can be used to draw it within a reasonable space. This is magic you will likely never learn, to cast runes so detailed from but a mental picture, even with the prodigious skill my heir would so obviously have."

Iris rubbed her forehead. "This is complicated."

"All magic is."

"How would you even mentally picture such a complicated rune?"

"A lot of straining."

"Very informative." Iris shook her head. "And the quills? Would a phoenix feather be better?"

"Yes. Not by such a significant degree, no, perhaps not," Salazar said. "But it's enough of a difference to use the feather of a phoenix. But be warned! A phoenix feather will not work so well with runes that could be considered Dark Magic. Phoenixes needn't be pure in and of themselves, but they do prefer the good. For what I will show you today, you needn't worry. I am sure Fawkes will lend you a feather."

"That means I'll have to make it a quill myself," Iris said, not feeling like getting up to get a feather from Fawkes, much less turn it into a quill.

Salazar groaned loudly. "Oh, how terrible! Worry not, I will be here to massage your hands after, as I know creating a quill is such a _tiresome_ task. How _difficult_ it must be to use a few careful Severing Charms."

"Alright, alright, sheesh. I'll do it." Iris paused. "Hey, would a feather from a — er — thunderbird-phoenix hybrid thing be good?"

"The offspring of a phoenix and a thunderbird? I didn't know such a thing was possible. Knew they were related, of course… Interesting. Possible, possible," Salazar murmured to himself. "It may be that a feather from a creature such as that will be powerful like that of a phoenix, but have no preference to the kind of magic it's used with… or it might not be special at all."

"Wait," Iris interrupted. "Voldemort, your current heir, his wand has a phoenix feather but he's used his wand for all sorts of Dark Magic. But you just said —"

"Bah, his phoenix feather is tempered with the wood of his wand," Salazar said. "It's different. Not the same as using a phoenix feather by itself for runes — don't ask me how, it's just not. Do you have a feather of this creature you spoke of?"

Iris hesitated. "Not exactly, no… but I have her with me." She pulled out the bottle containing what became of Astra from her bag.

"Are you sure?" asked Slytherin. "Looks like water to me."

"Astra, the phoenix, took a curse for me about three weeks back. She turned into this puddle and — small — cloud — thingy. I don't really know what it is, but I don't know how to get her back, if it's even possible. I've tried pouring her out on a desk overnight, many nights, outside — I've tried to do a ton. All that's left is to drink this, and I'm not sure I fancy the idea of a phoenix being rebirthed inside my stomach."

Salazar waved his hand impatiently. "Put it outside during a thunderstorm, don't know what else you could do. Now grab a feather from that phoenix over there — Fawkes! I, Salazar Slytherin, command you to stay still for my heir!"

But Fawkes simply looked pointedly at one of the six drawers of a cabinet near his perch. Iris opened the cabinet once she reached it, and to her pleasure, she found a collection of all kinds of quills: those made from the feathers of eagles, thunderbirds, pheasants, gooses, peacocks, and a few that looked clearly to be those of Fawkes's. Iris plucked one from the box labelled _Phoenix_ and made her way to the space before Salazar Slytherin's portrait.

"Okay, what now?"

"I will show you how to draw this rune. Get in the center of the room, where there's room. The rune will be wide enough to cover a sitting grown man. Unlike normal runes, we will not be using ink or the scorching marks of a wand, but rather your blood. You needn't always take the blood directly from the source, but it is the most powerful if you do. If you want to pour your blood in a bowl, that is perfectly — oh, there she goes, cutting herself open — wow."

The portraits all nodded and murmured to each other as Iris used her wand to cut her arm. She dipped the quill directly into the wound, showing no signs that she was digging a sharp object in between her skin.

"Start by drawing a triangle," Salazar said, loudly and clearly, "small enough that you'll be able to touch all three sides of it when you sit down. Next, you'll need to draw a circle…"

And so as the setting sun spread an orange glow over the room, Iris drew the most complicated rune she had ever seen — outside of books, which featured the runes to such a small size that it was impossible to really study the details.

When the sun had fallen below the horizon, forcing Iris to stop and light candles and torches, it was done. The outermost layer was a circle, and three inches within was another circle. In between these two circles, dozens of runic letters were drawn. Touching the inner circle at three points was the triangle, the first part Iris had drawn. And more lines, letters, circles, triangles, and symbols were scattered within, organized neatly, all of it drawn in blood.

"I think I hate Ancient Runes now," Iris said, her knees, back, and wrist hurting after an hour of drawing the complicated rune. "Tell me there's nothing more."

Salazar smiled. "There's nothing more."

Iris let out a sigh of relief. "You'll lucky I want that ring and —"

"Now you must cut off a foot."

"What?" squeaked Iris, more like a house-elf than she would have liked.

Salazar chortled. "I kid, I kid. All you must do is activate the rune."

"Er — how do I do that?"

"Really?" said Salazar disbelievingly. "You've been studying Ancient Runes for two months and you aren't aware of how to actually activate the rune?"

"Hey!" Iris felt somewhat offended about this. "Third years don't learn anything about placing actual runes at all! They only learn the theory and the runic alphabet. You only start learning about them in fourth year, and even then, you don't ever cast them. It's fifth year where you begin drawing, casting, activating — whatever, and the basic ones at that. I've never even done this before and I've just drawn a bloody blood rune — and a complicated one at that."

Salazar yawned. "You are my heir, I expect more out of you. To activate the rune, you may cast — well, I doubt you even know how. You do know how to let magic flow out your wand or even your fingers, yes? It's not a spell, really, and you can't see it, nor feel it — unless you're particularly sensitive to feeling magic —"

"I know how to do that, yes."

"Well then, if you are able to do the same but send the magic out further than the surface of your fingers or wand, do _that_. Let the magic _fly_ ," Salazar said, making exaggerated hand gesture. "Or you may place your wand in the circle, against the surface, and simply let magic out. Just a little will do, of course. You do know how to —"

"Yes, I just said I did," Iris said testily. She placed her palm flat against the floor and pushed magic throughout her hand. The lines of blood glowed slightly, almost looked as though they were lifting off the ground, and then —

"Iris? Iris, are you well?" said a voice above her. It was familiar, but her mind was too fuzzy to recognize it. "Salazar, do you not have any sense of responsibility?"

"Or maturity?!" said another voice, this one feminine and she couldn't help but associate it with the word _danger_. "How could you suggest something like this to Potter? _Of all people_? You've heard of what she's been going through, of that I have no doubt! Don't you think she's gone through enough already, and now you're — what is this even? Is this — oh, no, Albus, is this a _blood rune_?"

Iris opened her eyes. Above her stood — or rather, crouched — Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, one looking quite calm considering one of his students was lying in her own blood, the other the exact opposite.

"It is," said Dumbledore. "If I am correct, I believe it to be a Blood Adoption Rune. Well, Iris, how are you? Or should I say, how are you, Miss Slytherin?"

"What?" Iris said, sitting up quickly. "Slytherin? I didn't just change my name, did I? I'm still Potter, right? Iris Slytherin sounds terrible!"

"No," Dumbledore said, "you are still Iris Potter."

Salazar scoffed. "She can be either now! Well, she still has to go to your Ministry, I imagine, but once all is said and done —"

"She will not be going to the Ministry!" McGonagall said sharply.

"Er — yeah, I sorta am," Iris said. "I've got business there."

"What sort of business?" asked McGonagall sharply.

"I've got a plan." Iris stood up slowly. "Could be brilliant or terrible, really… go exactly my way or horribly wrong… They all think me some dark witch, so I'm going to do something so ridiculous that it'll become a complete joke. You'll see," she said when both the professors gave her questioning looks. "I've got to go to the Ministry to do that, and not only that either. I've got Winky to register or something."

"Winky?" said Dumbledore. "The house-elf that used to work for Barty Crouch?"

"Yep." Iris smiled brightly at McGonagall. "Imagine it yet, Professor? Iris Potter with a house-elf. I don't even need to go to the kitchens to eat anymore, much less the Great Hall."

"Those not of age aren't allowed to have a house-elf of their own," McGonagall said, frowning. "Am I mistaken, Albus? I could have sworn that was the law. You could use a house-elf your guardians owned, but you, yourself, Potter, could not."

"Oh, I know," Iris said casually. "I've got a plan for that. And no, I'm not going to tell you. I'm going the Dumbledore route — act all mysterious and never reveal my ways so that I leave people with their wild guesses."

Dumbledore ignored McGonagall's glare.

"Also, I need to register myself as an Animagus, don't I?"

"Animagus?" McGonagall said. "What? When? Albus! You surely didn't —"

"I'm not quite sure what you are talking about, Minerva," Dumbledore said, taking out his wand and Vanishing Iris's blood off the floor. "A complicated rune, Iris, did you draw it yourself? But of course," he said, answering his own question and moving to pet Fawkes, "there's no one else here."

McGonagall stared hard at him. "Albus, you cannot possibly be okay with this —"

"On the contrary, Minerva, I think it is wonderful that young Iris here is taking responsibility and is registering herself as an Animagus early."

In truth, Iris had no plans to register herself as an Animagus, and she was sure Dumbledore knew this. She was also suspicious of Dumbledore's tone. It was far too calm, far too accepting of this to be real. It was as though he was attempting to sound accepting and his disapproval was leaking out… but Dumbledore would know how to mask that disapproval… unless he wanted Iris to hear it.

"But surely she's not even _close_ to become one herself! Why now? She can wait until the summer, at least," said McGonagall.

Iris was fairly certain she'd become one before March. She only had about two weeks left of performing the incantation for her current step every morning and night.

"The quicker the better, I say. Minerva, we both know she will find a way to the Ministry anyway. You are finished with your classes." Dumbledore smiled serenely at McGonagall. "Go with her."

Iris interrupted. "Er — I don't think —"

"I'm sorry, Iris, but I can not permit you to go alone. I will place a Tracking Charm on you if I must so that I can see your movements throughout the day."

"Well, it's not as though I'm expecting to keep it secret from you. And it's not as though I care about punishments anymore."

"Potter, your behavior has _improved_ since the second task," McGonagall said. "This is the first thing you've done since then that you shouldn't have."

"It's been like three days," Iris said, amused.

"Something I consider a miracle."

Dumbledore walked away from Fawkes and to his desk, leaving Iris facing away from him. She used this as her excuse to not look him in the eyes.

"Did either one of you seal the way to the Chamber of Secrets?" Iris asked, looking at McGonagall. "I haven't been able to open it since the second task."

"What?!" Salazar cried. "Dumbledore! How _dare_ you?"

Iris turned to look at his portrait while Dumbledore reassured both Salazar and her that he had not 'personally' sealed the Chamber of Secrets — and then, when he realized how that sounded, he added that he hadn't even known it had been sealed. When Iris caught Salazar's eye, she gave an almost imperceptible wink. It was possible Dumbledore would see through her lie, or catch her going down into the Chamber soon anyway, but if not, she needn't worry about him threatening to stop her from using it as some form of punishment.

Iris turned to McGonagall. "Look. I've tried being reasonable. You've seen me attempting to help students in your class. The Ravenclaws and even the Gryffindors will decline my help, but not before shooting some look at me, like I'll be teaching them Transfiguration by Transfiguring _them_ into something. Morons."

"Potter," warned McGonagall.

"What? You said our house was to be our family, didn't you?" Iris said. "It's literally the first thing I ever heard from you."

McGonagall sighed. "So it was. I try to stomp out that behavior, but —"

"Yeah, I know. I appreciate it," Iris said, and she meant it. "It's not like you know if they're telling the truth, when they say they'd prefer to learn themselves and without anyone's help... And it's not like _I'm_ going to start telling on everyone who asks for help from their friends when your back is turned."

McGonagall frowned. "They do that, do they?"

Iris smiled sadly. "You should see how they act outside of class. I had some Gryffindors come up to me when I entered our tower just yesterday, told me they voted — the bloody five of them — and came to a decision: to kick me out of the tower for being a disgrace to the house —"

"Excuse me?" McGonagall suddenly thundered, looking ready to march right on out of Dumbledore's office and into the Gryffindor Tower, pulling kids out of their beds to yell at them. "Students aren't allowed to do that!"

"Yeah, well, they learned that pretty quickly." Iris snorted. "Showed them just how courageous I was, taking on all five of them. The Quidditch team didn't even manage to get up fully to come defend me before I made sure no one in the common room at that moment would ever come to me with such rubbish again. In hindsight," Iris added, tilting her head thoughtfully, "I probably only confirmed their fears of me, but whatever."

"Well, they should fear you!" Salazar said. "Couldn't even _imagine_... not fearsome, _my_ heir?"

"I will speak to them," McGonagall said. "And if they —"

"Honestly, don't bother," Iris said defeatedly. "You know they won't listen. Just let them. The only people who are okay with me now are Hermione, Fay, the Quidditch team, and I suppose all the Weasleys. Ron's being all awkward about the whole lesbian thing, but he'll come around."

"Awkward?" repeated McGonagall. "Did his mother not teach him better than that? If Molly heard —"

"No, no. He just fancies me is all." Iris felt awkward talking about this with McGonagall and Dumbledore, even more so with all the portraits listening in. "Look, no amount of talking to them will work. I've tried. I tried in my second year and I've tried now, offering help to firsties, being nice in general to people, but — but — well, it just doesn't _work_. And it's not like I'm being insincere with my help. I do enjoy helping people, you know I do — well, when I'm not feeling particularly lazy, but still.

"And it's not like I was always causing trouble. I mean, look at my first year. I didn't go looking for that troll. I was just comforting Hermione when it lumbered in. Ron locked us in, didn't he?"

"Excuse me?" said McGonagall. "Miss Granger told me —"

Iris stopped her. "That was the beginning of Hermione's life of lies and mischief. Hm," she said to herself, "this isn't really helping my point. But no, really, I was just trying to keep Hagrid out of Azkaban with the dragon. And I felt like I had no choice but to go after the Philosopher's Stone myself. And despite all that, despite not acting out, not causing trouble for my own gain, I still got the short end of the stick, didn't I? Nearly beaten to death by Quirrell, and then vilified by the school the following year. And after _three_ _years_ of it, I'm just sick of it all. If I'm going to get thrown into all kinds of trouble anyway, I'm not going to just lay down and take it. Honestly, if I did that, I'd have really gone dark — or I would just brood constantly, and that's even worse —"

Iris felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over to see Dumbledore smiling down at her. He held out her bag that she had left on the floor. Iris took it, thinking it was Dumbledore's gentle way of telling her she needed to stop rambling and get the hell out.

"I understand," Dumbledore said. "I am well aware of what other paths you could have taken. Why do you think I tolerate your, ah, disobedience."

Iris looked down. "I figure if I just go along with it, y'know, that maybe they'll see it as a big joke. It's not like I cut an intimidating figure or anything," she muttered. "And then there's Voldemort. I think he'd have a jolly good laugh at hearing his nemesis took his title from him, don't you?"

McGonagall sighed. "Come, Potter, let us go."

"Fawkes, if you will," Dumbledore said, gesturing to Iris and McGonagall.

Before Iris was ready, she felt Fawkes touch her with the tip of his wing and she pulled in his direction, felt heat envelop her entire body — heat that was only just bearable enough, and then she was standing, quite upright to her surprise, in a long, wide, and packed hallway of sorts.

As soon as she appeared right in the center of the Atrium, her and McGonagall, likely dramatically, everybody nearby stopped what they were doing — lowering the _Daily Prophet_ mid-page, pausing mid-step, stopping their conversations mid-sentence — and turned to stare at her: Iris Potter, Girl Who Lived, a phoenix on her shoulder — not a common sight, even Iris had to admit. She thought about asking McGonagall to Transfigure Fawkes's plumage to black to fit the whole Dark Lady thing, but decided against it.

McGonagall led the way.

More and more people paused what they were doing as her and McGonagall's presence split the Atrium in half, reminding Iris of Moses and his little water trick. She couldn't help but let her mind wander to religious figures and if they were really just incredibly dramatic wizards.

When she reached a security desk, Fawkes still on her shoulder, a man in blue robes raised his hand to stop them from continuing.

"We're here for house-elf registration," McGonagall said, handing over her wand. Iris mimicked her actions. "And apparently for some hair-brained scheme of Potter's."

Iris smiled awkwardly at the security wizard, whose eyes did the typical flick up to her forehead. "I'm announcing my plan for world domination, you see. It's quite brilliant —"

"Potter."

"Right, sorry, Professor, I don't really like being surrounded by so many idiots, makes me say stupid things —"

" _Potter_."

The security wizard examined both of their wands, and after a suspicious look at Iris, let the two of them through. Iris eyed the _Daily Prophet_ newspaper on the security desk as she walked past.

To her surprise, and joy, McGonagall and her ran into Rita Skeeter, who was no doubt holding back from drooling at the possibility of another story about her.

"Iris! How wonderful to see you!"

"I'm afraid Miss Potter is quite busy at the moment, Rita," McGonagall said coldly. "We have business to attend to. Thank you."

"Oh?" Rita Skeeter said, letting the two pass but catching up quickly. "What kind of business? Iris, there are quite a few rumors about the second task —"

"Of me being a dark witch?" Iris said before McGonagall's glare could turn the reporter into a pile of ash. "Yes, I suppose the secret is out, isn't it? But it's not like people will take me seriously now, will they? I think… yes, I think if I just keep my head down, that eventually, I'll be able to make my move."

"Your move?" Rita Skeeter breathed, her eyes lighting up with some kind of twisted joy.

McGonagall huffed. "Potter —"

"Well, yeah," Iris said lightly. "Voldemort's gone, Grindelwald's gone — true, Grindelwald didn't declare himself a Dark Lord, but either way, I figure it's time for a Dark _Lady_ to eventually rise up, don't you? Of course, I wouldn't kill innocents, but still — there would definitely be change."

McGonagall stopped in her tracks and stared at Iris in disbelief, as did Rita Skeeter, but Skeeter's stare held something else in too, eyes that spoke of the numerous opportunities this declaration by Iris would offer her. But as they turned a corner into a corridor where only two wizards were, neither paying attention, Iris grabbed Rita Skeeter and leaned in close, as though to tell her sensitive information. Her wand slipped right in Rita Skeeter's open robes, and in Rita's ear, she whispered quietly, " _Stupefy_."

As she fell, Iris grabbed her and gently placed her on a bench near the wall. McGonagall was still staring in disbelief, her brain apparently not being able to catch up with what had just happened.

"Shall we continue, Professor?"

It was a testament to how much people hated Rita Skeeter as much others loved her; McGonagall only took another moment to stare at Rita's unconscious form before she took Iris by the elbow and led her away.

Iris took in McGonagall's thin lips. "Don't worry," she said, "she'll end up writing a nasty article about me, not press charges."

" _That_ I know, Potter." McGonagall led the two toward an elevator. "I hope you know what you are doing."

In the elevator ride, Iris convinced McGonagall to convince whoever needed convincing to let her bypass the law with minors and house-elves because of the fact she was in the Triwizard Tournament.

"You had to be of age to get entered into the tournament," Iris told her, "so unless we can get me out of this tournament I've been forced into, it's only fair that I should be able to do _something_ a grown witch could do. I mean, I could be asking for full emancipation. Oh, can I do that?"

She couldn't.

"You are far too clever for your own good," McGonagall said weakly as they stepped out onto a new floor.

They registered Winky first. It had taken about half an hour of sitting in a room with McGonagall while the Ministry employee went to see if her Triwizard Tournament reasoning would let her bypass the law since she was underage. It was rather awkward, sitting there with McGonagall, who clearly didn't want to be there, answering the odd question about her schoolwork here and there.

And then Iris had wanted to move on to the Heir of Slytherin business.

This had been an even harder sell, she had to admit, but in the end, she had managed to convince McGonagall that it would be the ultimate, final _fuck_ _you_ to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She hadn't used that language, of course, but McGonagall had reluctantly agreed. This process took about five minutes. A Ministry employee took her blood, confirmed her as the Heir of Slytherin, and they all moved on. Iris wondered how long it would take for that to leak out. Would it even, ever?

And then it was to Gringotts — to take a visit to her vault, get a key specifically for Winky, and file her house-elf down with the goblins so Winky wouldn't be killed, cooked, and eaten by them should she try to visit the Potter vault.

The reaction in Diagon Alley was much like that of the Atrium. As Iris and McGonagall appeared in a small explosion of flames next to Ollivander's shop, the numerous wizards and witches nearby stopped to stare. She ignored them. She turned the corner leading away from the short alleyway that led to Ollivander's shop and headed straight to Gringotts.

She strolled past the goblin guards and directly into the bank, finding herself in awe, as usual when she entered Gringotts, of the vast marble hall, the marble walls, and the absurd amount of golden things.

She came across a goblin immediately. "Ah, Griphook!"

The goblin stopped, and looked up at Iris in what she thought was surprise. "Griphook?" he repeated. "My name is not Griphook."

Iris grimaced and rubbed the back of her neck. "I keep doing that, don't I?"

"Potter," sighed McGonagall. "Let us get this over with."

"Right, can you help us or are you busy?" Iris asked the goblin. "I need to visit both the Potter and Slytherin vault, please."

"Slytherin vault?" the goblin repeated, sounding puzzled.

Iris nodded. "I am the Heir of Slytherin. I can prove it, if you —"

"There is no Slytherin vault," the goblin said flatly.

Iris frowned. "Did you lose it?"

"No," the goblin snarled, "there _isn't_ a Slytherin vault. Gringotts was created over two centuries after Salazar Slytherin died. There has _never_ been a Slytherin vault, you stupid cunt."

McGonagall pulled her away before she could reply.

Through a narrow, short hallway, then a long one, and Iris spent another ten minutes doing incredibly boring paperwork for Winky, who she had been forced to call again to give a vault key to. As for the vault itself —

Iris grimaced when she finally reached her vault and stepped inside. She had definitely spent too much money over the last year. She had cut her galleons in half, maybe more. She probably should have been a little more careful with her money, but it wasn't as though it was unexpected, really. She had never had money before Hogwarts, and to be suddenly given so much, and without any advice on how to manage it, it's really a surprise the goblins weren't knocking down her dormitory door to collect loans. Though, she doubted her roommates would be surprised.

After Gringotts, she had Fawkes Flame her and McGonagall back to Dumbledore's office. She found only Dumbledore there, and McGonagall left instantly, looking exhausted. Dumbledore looked up from his desk at McGonagall's departure, raising his eyebrows in question.

"It all went to plan. Sorta." Iris hesitated. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Have you ever done something incredibly stupid and have it work out in the end? It's stupidly incredible, isn't it, how satisfying it feels?"

"I can not say I am particularly satisfied concerning the abuse you went through," Dumbledore said, "but yes, I have had a horrible plan work out in the end."

Iris's satisfied smile slipped off her face. "Wow, you sure know how to kill a good mood."

Dumbledore's beard twitched slightly and he went back to reading a parchment over his long, crooked nose.

"Though," Iris continued, "if you knew what my plan was before you made Professor McGonagall come along, I really don't think you'd say your little plan worked out in the end. I even did something questionable _with_ her there."

"Did you murder anyone?"

"Not today, no."

"Torture?"

"McGonagall, maybe."

"Then I say you have turned out better than I could have expected." Dumbledore looked at her with an odd expression, as though he was attempting to convince himself that his statement was true, or maybe he was thinking that Iris hadn't really been joking with her answers. A different voice spoke from the wall.

"So? Did you do it? Is it _official_?"

Iris looked up at Salazar. "Yes, I'm officially your heir. I'll also be the Dark Lady of Britain — maybe the world, I dunno, I didn't really specify when I told Rita Skeeter."

"Dark Lady? What?" Salazar looked at her in disbelief. "Are you telling me I turned my back to a Dark Lord only to give the future of my line to a Dark Lady?"

"Calm down, I have no plans on becoming immortal, ruling, or —"

"No plans of ruling? Why not?"

"What? You want me to rule but not be a Dark Lady?"

"There's a difference!"

"Iris, I do hope you were joking about it," Dumbledore said, sounding resigned, "but I'm under the impression that you really did declare yourself a Dark Lady."

"Well, not seriously. I just implied that one day I would, heavily. There were no witnesses outside of Professor McGonagall and Rita Skeeter. Rita will publish it and look like a joke."

"Just as you will," Dumbledore pointed out, glancing up at her for a moment.

Iris snorted. "I am a joke."

"I suppose it would be best if they viewed you as a joke rather than a cunning dark witch," Dumbledore said tiredly.

Iris nodded. "Alright, well, I'm going."

"Iris?"

Iris stopped her walk to the door and turned around, looking expectantly at Dumbledore.

"It is very easy for an environment to shape a person," he said gravely, "to mold them into becoming someone they might not want to become… and you, of all people, have been pushed, pressured, and tempted in ways no other student, I think, have been pushed, pressured, and _tempted_. But you have persevered in manners of which I could not even begin to fully appreciate, in ways that _no_ _one_ , no one but you, could possibly understand. I tell you now, Iris, do not forget who you are, no matter what terrible nightmares tell you."

"A bit difficult to forget who I am, headmaster," Iris said, _a product of the wizarding world_ , the thought finished in her head.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

The chapter officially ends here, but there are two omakes below. They aren't meant to be taken seriously. Picture it not as what would have happened if Iris went alone, but rather what Iris thinks would happen if she went alone.

* * *

 **Omake 1**

 **What If?**

She walked through the Atrium as though she was having a casual afternoon stroll. More and more people paused what they were doing as her very presence split the Atrium in half, reminding Iris of Moses and his little water trick. She couldn't help but let her mind wander to religious figures and if they were really just incredibly dramatic wizards.

When she reached the security desk, Fawkes still on her shoulder, a man in blue robes stood up and raised his hand to stop her from continuing. She didn't think he was even a head taller than her.

"I need to see the Minister," Iris said in a tone that suggested she owned the place.

The security wizard frowned. "Who are you to think you can just waltz on in to see the Minister of Magic?" He looked her up and down, stopping his stare on Iris's breasts for a moment too long, as Iris was not wearing her loose robes. Iris did not miss it.

"Iris Potter, I suppose," she said, shrugging lightly. The man's eyes bulged slightly, and she thought she saw his hand twitch slightly toward his robes, as though to pull out a wand. "I'm sure Cornelius will have time to see me."

"I — well — I still can't let you just walk on in without a security check and to see what you want here."

It was Iris's turn to frown now. "I just told you. I need to talk with Cornelius, maybe you can lead me to his office? Minister Fudge, in case you're uncertain — I forget not everyone is on first name basis with the Minister —"

"I know what the Minister's first name is," the security wizard snapped. "I just don't think _you_ , Potter, should be alone with him," he added snidely.

Iris eyed the _Daily Prophet_ newspaper on the security desk. There was no getting around this man by convincing him. There was no convincing anyone who believed in the _Daily Prophet_. She had learned this the hard way. It was time for a new approach.

"Can you toss up a spell so that no one overhears us?" Iris asked. The man's eyes narrowed. "Unless you _want_ everybody to overhear sensitive information…"

Reluctantly, the man flicked his wand and Iris felt the feeling of some kind of charm falling into place. When the security wizard began talking again, after placing his wand back in his robes, Iris took a few steps back as he was in mid-sentence, and sure enough, though his mouth kept moving, she could not hear him. Satisfied, she stepped back inside.

"You know, they say galleons can open any door," she said, taking out a bag of galleons.

The security wizard looked at her in disbelief. "You think you can bribe me?" he said, pulling out his wand again. "Get out of here, girl, before I —"

Iris swung the bag of galleons at the man, hitting him square in the temple, dropping him instantly. Fawkes pecked at her irritably, as her swing had nearly knocked him off her shoulder.

She stared at his unconscious body for a moment before she noticed the sudden silence. She looked around and saw nearly everyone staring at her in shock, fear, and surprise. She gave a little nod to herself as she decided on doing what she had planned, here, now. Iris raised her own wand to her throat and cast the Amplifying Charm, then stepped outside the charm the security wizard had placed, just in case. She was pleased to see Rita Skeeter. The reporter looked as though she had been interviewing some Ministry employee.

Iris cleared her throat.

"I am officially declaring myself as a Dark Lady! Thought you'd oughta know."

She cancelled the charm and stepped over the security wizard, intending to find Fudge herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rita Skeeter running to a Floo Network fireplace, squibbling away on some parchment as she walked. Many others had lost their look of apprehension, replaced by clear amusement.

It was already working.

And then, Cornelius Fudge himself showed.

"What's this, what's this?" he shouted, making his way to her. He only recognized her when he was a few steps away. "Merlin's beard! Iris? What are you — why is Eric Munch on the floor — is that a phoenix? — will someone please explain what is — was that you? Declaring yourself a Dark Lady?" he asked incredulously.

"No, that was some hag." Iris shrugged. "Honestly, Minster, _me_? Dark Lady? I'm tiny. I was here to get some things done, you see, and Mr. Munch here asked me my name after checking my wand. Well, I _told_ him my name and he simply passed out." Iris shook her head regretfully. "Must have been the shock, sir."

Fudge stared at her for a moment, then removed his wand from his robes and looked ready to revive the security wizard, but Iris stopped him.

"Minister, perhaps it's best if he's revived when I'm not in the area." Iris looked around before speaking again. "He might pass out again, you see… Say, you like pineapple, don't you?"

Fudge blinked at this sudden turn in the conversation.

"It's just that Honeydukes gave me a new sweet to try out, but I've never been the biggest fan of pineapple, you see, and I've just remembered — I remember you mentioning something about pineapples the summer before last." Iris took a wrapped candy out of her pocket, along with a galleon, and offered them to Fudge. "A galleon, in case you want to buy yourself some more."

Iris knew he wouldn't; it would probably taste horrible once the pineapple-flavored coating she had put on wore off. And once it did, there was a chance he'd just spit it out and the effect of what was really inside wouldn't hit him.

"I — well, I don't see why not," he said, grabbing the galleon greedily. He unwrapped the hard candy, examined it for a moment, and then tossed it in his mouth. Iris's smile widened as he began to suck on the frozen Confusion Concoction.

What an idiot.

If it worked, and she wasn't sure it would, he would act as though a mild Confundus Charm had been placed on him, and maybe, hopefully, susceptible to following along with Iris. She was fairly certain Hermione had believed she was joking when she told her the fake candy would get her tossed into Azkaban if anyone ever found out about it.

"Say, maybe it's best we do a Memory Charm on him," Iris said. "What do you say?"

"W-what? A Memory Charm?" blustered Fudge, and in his attempt to speak loudly, he choked on the candy. Iris did nothing to help, as this was more than she could have hoped for. Fudge swallowed the candy instead of attempting to cough it back up. "Why in the name of Merlin would we do that? There's no reason to — was that really pineapple? It tasted odd going down."

Iris shrugged. "Dunno, take it to Honeydukes." She knew he wouldn't waste his time. "And… well, it wasn't as though he _only_ stared at my scar." Iris looked pointedly at Fudge. "He… well, Minister, he sort of stared at me all over, you understand? Even licked his lips — quite disturbing, given how young I am. Then he saw my scar and he must've realized he had just been caught staring at the body of a girl who actually means something. You have to wonder how many times he's done so before with girls he thinks are unimportant. Maybe it's best we just make him forget it ever happened, then you can have someone question him later."

"I — I —" Fudge looked uncertain as to what to do, and Iris felt a stab of disgust over the complete incompetence of not just the Minister, but the Ministry. Still, even as they watched Iris blatantly manipulate their own Minister, no one stepped up. Maybe the privacy charm this Munch bloke had put up was still there. "But surely not, Iris! I mean to say — Eric Munch! He's always been a decent wizard —"

"Mm." Iris nodded her head. "No surprise, really. Rita Skeeter seems like a decent witch, does she not? But appearances can be deceiving, you know. If she saw you here now, she'd spin some tale about you frequently talking to dark witches —"

"She's already done that before," Fudge said unhappily.

Iris nodded again. "Gilderoy Lockhart? Had everybody convinced he was some hero, did he not? And now look at him… wherever he is," she added uncertainly. "Quirinus Quirrell had everybody convinced he was a decent wizard too, but then he went and died, trying to steal something valuable from Dumbledore. Both Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, actually."

She knew what Fudge was going to say before he did it. She was hoping for it. It would give her a chance to agree with what Fudge was saying, rather than the other way around.

"And Remus Lupin had everyone convinced he was perfectly normal, not at all dangerous," Fudge said, nodding knowingly. Iris hated to throw Lupin under the bus, but she nodded along.

"But you knew, didn't you, that Lupin was a werewolf... You didn't fall for it, even if Dumbledore vouched for him. Maybe she's not a Defense teacher at Hogwarts, but nonetheless, Minister, Rita Skeeter _thrives_ on lies and causing mayhem. She's no different than the other two-faced liars that lie in wait _everywhere_ ," she whispered, leaning in close. "Why, there might be one near you _right now_."

Fudge nodded dumbly. Iris had to resist the urge to laugh and sneer at the same time. She could only hope that it was the Confusion Concoction at work, rather than his own stupidity.

"Of course, you wouldn't believe such rubbish, Minister, would you? Oh no." Iris laughed airily. "You know Ron Weasley, yes? Arthur Weasley's youngest son? Well, I'm dating him — have been since last year, actually. So I couldn't exactly be into girls, could I? No, if you ask me," she said, whispering again, as though she was sharing a secret, "Rita Skeeter was upset that I didn't have time to give her an exclusive interview — had to prepare for the first task, you see."

Fudge seemed unable to respond, as though Iris was giving him too much information too fast and his brain simply could not process it all quick enough. Truth be told, Iris was getting a bit tired of this too. It was a bit exhausting to keep up this cheery, Lockhart-esque facade. She wondered how Lockhart managed to do it.

"And all the other nonsense Skeeter has written," Iris continued, "what with me being dark and everything? It's just ridiculous. My best friend is a muggle-born, my boyfriend a pure-blood, me a half-blood; you're of course aware of the fact I was the one responsible for stopping that Chamber of Secrets business two years ago; and I have a phoenix, a light creature by my side at this very moment! I mean, _really_ , the only reason I can speak Parseltongue is because I defeated You-Know-Who! Didn't you know, Minster?" she asked when Fudge looked even more befuddled than she thought possible.

She took him by the arm and led him away, signaling who she thought was an Obliviator to perform a Memory Charm on the security wizard, but only after slipping Fudge a bag of galleons, which he was too busy staring at to notice anything.

"You see, Minister, Salazar Slytherin didn't want his ability to speak to snakes to die out, so he made it so that if his blood should ever be killed, the Parseltongue ability would _pass on_. Which is why I, Iris Potter, Girl Who Lived, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, possess the ability."

Honesty was overhyped.

"We found his portrait, you see. It's in Dumbledore's office now, actually, you can confirm it yourself. Slytherin told me all this himself. You were in Slytherin yourself, were you not, Minister?" Iris wasn't sure if he really was, but his ambition and desperate need for staying in power made Slytherin the most likely house. "Meeting the man himself, or rather his portrait, is something we can definitely arrange, you know."

Did she lay it on a little thick? No. Did she lay it on really thick? Most definitely. But the fact that she was minutes later having Fudge personally get everything sorted out for Winky to legally be her house-elf was just proof of how much of a completely brain-dead moron he was; simply overload his brain with information, toss in a few galleons, and promise to put in a good word for him the next time she talked to the Delacour family, who were, in Iris's made-up world, good friends with the French Minister of Magic.

She hadn't even made anything up about some donation. She had simply shoved the bag of galleons into his hands and that was enough. It was no wonder Lucius Malfoy had no troubles getting close with the Minster. Using the galleons, and perhaps the Confusion Concoction, she had convinced Fudge to let her bypass the law with minors and house-elves because of the fact she was in the Triwizard Tournament.

"You had to be of age to get entered into the tournament," Iris told him, "so unless we can get me out of this tournament I've been forced into, it's only fair that I should be able to do _something_ a grown witch could do. I mean, I could be asking for full emancipation. Ridiculous, wouldn't it be?" she added when Fudge chuckled, half-nervously, half-warily. "Fully emancipated because of something like this, but goodness, I don't know if the public would agree — you know how the public gets, all indignant, offended, they just don't understand, do they? Never handled laws like you have, have they?"

Of course, Fudge would likely soon find out that Iris had played him. He would soon hear the truth of how it _was_ her that had declared herself a Dark Lady, and would begin questioning everything else Iris had said, begin questioning those who had stood by and done nothing.

But as of now, he was agreeing to making it official: Iris Potter, Heir of Slytherin.

It had been a hard sell, she had to admit, but in the end, she had managed to convince Fudge that it would be the ultimate, final _fuck_ _you_ to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She hadn't used that language, of course, and she had made sure to say You-Know-Who rather than Voldemort, but yes, in the end, Iris walked out of the Ministry of Magic with Winky as her house-elf, as the Heir of Slytherin, and as the Dark Lady of Britain. Or rather Flamed out, as Fawkes had brought her to Diagon Alley from Fudge's office.

* * *

 **Omake 2**

 **Goblins**

She strolled past the goblin guards and directly into the bank, finding herself in awe, as usual when she entered Gringotts, of the vast marble hall, the marble walls, and the absurd amount of golden things.

She came across a goblin immediately. "Ah, Griphook!"

The goblin stopped, and looked up at Iris in what she thought was clear amazement. "Griphook?" he repeated.

Iris smiled down at him. "You took me to my vault first time I visited it. I couldn't forget your name, could I?"

"My name?" the goblin growled. "My name is not Griphook."

Iris frowned. "Really? I'm pretty sure it is."

The goblin's nostrils flared. "My name is Roknuk, you racist —"

"Roknuk!" another goblin shouted, and he began speaking Gobbledegook to Griphook. After a quick but heated argument, that resulted in the first goblin storming away, the new goblin turned to Iris. "What can I help you with?"

"Several things," Iris said. "I need to visit my vault, register my house-elf with Gringotts so she can visit my vault for me, and get a key for said house-elf."

"Very well, and what is your name?"

"Potter — Iris Potter."

She thought she saw the goblin's face twitch, but he nodded slowly, looking as though he was in pain from having to help her out. "I see. Come, Iris Potter."

Iris smiled. "Thank you, Griphook."

There was no doubt about it this time; the goblin's face definitely twitched with something, likely a desire to brutally murder her. The goblin led her to a private room where Iris spent a long, agonizing five minutes filling out a form and calling Winky. Winky had nearly fainted again when Iris had told her she was officially registered with the Ministry and Gringotts as her house-elf.

"Thank you, mistress, thank you!" she squealed. "And Winky is thanking you too, master goblin! But Winky is not knowing your name —"

"Griphook," Iris said helpfully.

"Winky is thanking you, Griphook!" Winky squeaked, and she disappeared from the room before the goblin could say anything. So instead, the goblin took to glaring at Iris.

"So, can I visit my vault now?" Iris asked. "Both the Potter and Slytherin vault, please."

"Slytherin vault?" the goblin repeated, sounding puzzled.

Iris nodded. "I am the Heir of Slytherin. I can prove it, if you —"

"There is no Slytherin vault," the goblin said flatly.

Iris frowned. "Did you lose it?"

"No," the goblin snarled, "there _isn't_ a Slytherin vault. Gringotts was created over two centuries after Salazar Slytherin died. There has _never_ been a Slytherin vault, you stupid cunt."

"I knew that." Iris hadn't known that at all. "So, are you going to be taking me to my vault? Why are you staring at me like that? You're not going to take me to your king again, are you? I don't think he likes me."

"You called him a disfigured midget!" the goblin exclaimed.

" _No_ ," Iris said slowly, "I called goblins _in general_ disfigured midgets. It just happened to be in his presence. Really, it's not my fault he happened to be taking his lunch break."

"Griphook will be here soon," the goblin said, ignoring her comment.

"How many Griphooks do you people have?"

He ignored this too. He opted to stare over Iris's head with a blank expression instead, deciding not to rise to Iris's bait. She was disappointed. Bantering with the goblins was a favorite pastime of hers. They had called it steps toward waging war with wizards, but Iris knew they secretly enjoyed it. A minute or two later, another goblin came in, the one that was going to take her to her vault, presumably.

"Ah, Griphook, is it?" Iris said, standing up and walking away from the other goblin. "Fantastic. I need you to —"

"I am not Griphook," he said, frowning. "I will be taking you to Griphook, however."

And so he did. Through a narrow, short hallway, then a long hall, and Iris was listening to the two goblins talk in their language. The goblin that had led her here walked away, leaving Iris with the new goblin. He didn't look any different than the time he had brought Iris to her vault the very first time she had visited Gringotts.

"Evening, Knutsack!" she said, patting him on the head.

"My name is Griphook," he said in a flat tone, "as you very well know, Iris Potter. And the next time call me that, I will cut off your tongue. The next time you pat my head, I will cut off your hand."

Iris grimaced when she finally reached her vault and stepped inside. She had definitely spent too much money over the last year. She had cut her galleons in half, maybe more. She probably should have been a little more careful with her money, but it wasn't as though it was unexpected, really. She had never had money before Hogwarts, and to be suddenly given so much, and without any advice on how to manage it, it's really a surprise the goblins weren't knocking down her dormitory door to collect loans. Though, she doubted her roommates would be surprised.


	15. The Legacy of Salazar & Rewrite Info

**Author's Notes:**

This chapter is incomplete. The reason is because I'm done with this version of the story. I'm starting a new story which will still have Iris and her characterization, but will also be vastly different. It's not exactly a rewrite, as many things won't happen for the first three years as they did in canon. In this story, things happened mostly the same as canon. It was just very minor details that were different. For the new one, many things that happen in _Iris Potter and the Goblet's Surprise_ will simply not be possible when we reach fourth year again.

The new one will start at near the end of second year and go from there to the Quidditch World Cup. The sequel will start in fourth year.

Any upset this decision might cause is quite understandable. I do apologize, and I do understand the frustration. However, I was largely unsatisfied with a lot of this when I reread it myself. I wanted to begin a rewrite (or whatever you'd call it) much earlier, but I didn't out of respect for my readers. But as I kept writing what I felt was unsatisfying, my enthusiasm kept fading — not because I didn't care for Iris's story, but because the mistakes and flaws of the past chapters kept bouncing around in my head. This was my very first story on here, and it honestly started awful. It's been through _many_ rewrites, so many of you probably have no idea. I'm talking certain cliches up the ass, making Iris look incredibly special with violet eyes and whatnot, and general "What the hell was I thinking?" moments.

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

 **The Legacy of Salazar**

 _Depths of Hogwarts..._

Iris stood in the center of the potions lab in the Chamber of Secrets, leaning against one of the stone pillars that separated the lab into two: one side dedicated to the growing of ingredients, with a worn cobbled floor, plants and vines hanging off the walls and ceiling, all very much like a small cave; the other more furnished and homely, with its new looking tan tiles, its cleaner tables, chairs, and equipment, and with a small library tucked away in the corner.

"Well, Salazar, here I am," Iris announced to the empty room. "I know I made you wait, but if you made me come down here as a joke, I will —"

She stopped suddenly, for even through her own voice, her hears picked up a muffled voice, a sort of rambling if she had to describe it, coming from beneath the balcony that led back to the rest of the Chamber.

She moved closer, pausing her breathing as she listened, as she put her ear up against the stone wall, in between the two torches which now reminded Iris of an entrance; she didn't know how she didn't see it before, the torches being placed at a perfect length from each other, as though a door was supposed to be in between; it looked remarkably like where a doorway should be. The only thing missing was the door itself.

"Salazar?"

"Place — blood — on — the — wall!" came the muffled voice of Salazar Slytherin. He sounded annoyed.

Iris let out a sigh as she took out her wand. Blood again. She was bleeding a disturbing amount this year. It was no wonder, really, that she was acting out again. She would rather act out, act happy, break rules, break laws, all of it rather than fall into depression. Still, she felt she had pushed it the day before. Thinking back on it, she was sure Dumbledore had been somewhat tired with her behavior. Hermione had been told of what she had done with Minister Fudge. She hadn't been pleased. She wasn't mad, necessarily, but rather disappointed and scared — scared that Iris was finally past the point of harmless mischief, and finally into the territory that could get her into real trouble, trouble not even Dumbledore could protect her against.

As she smeared her own blood against the stone wall, a doorway immediately began to shape itself into existence. A large wooden door with a round top formed between the torches. She pushed it open.

It was pleasing to the eye, to say the least.

The room was circular, or rather like an octagon with its eight walls — it looked partly like an office, a private library, and a common room.

Directly across from the entrance to this room was the archway that led to the lake that Salazar. Iris found it beautiful, the way the lake somehow glowed blue from here, showering the room with the color; fish and merpeople swum by, the latter pausing to stare at her with curiosity. Looking up, she saw a simple chandelier and that there were also eight circular windows, one on each wall, at the very top, all barred with horizontal and vertical rods.

She spun around to look at the window directly behind her, and stared. From the archway leading into the lake she could see that this room was resting on the very bottom of the lake. If she had just come from the potions lab, the entrance to this room being directly under a balcony, how in the world did this room look as though it wasn't connected to anything at all? The ceiling rose about thirty feet high. The balcony and the room beyond it must have only been half of that, so it was quite literally impossible for this room to exist the way it did.

She chalked it up to magic and moved on, taking in the rest of the room.

There were eight walls, or what would be eight walls if one of them wasn't mostly an archway leading to the lake. The rightmost wall had a large desk, and above it was a notice board, just as tall and wide. There were few items posted upon it. The two walls to the side of this one contained bookcases built into the wall itself, nearly as wide as the individual walls themselves and reaching to half the height of the ceiling, ending with a rounded top.

Iris looked around for a ladder, but could not see one; she wasn't sure how she was supposed to reach the books at the very top, or really, any of the books on top half of these bookcases. There were also two bookcases in the same positions on the other side of the room. The books looked just as ancient as the ones in the other two.

And on the wall opposite of the one with the table and board, a grand fireplace lay, and directly above the mantel, another portrait of Salazar Slytherin. He sat in his chair, nodding to himself as though he was incredibly pleased with Iris's awe.

Other than the four large bookcases, the magnificent stone fireplace, the table, board, and archway, there were a few chairs and small tables scattered about. Iris spotted a chessboard on one side table, an elegant hourglass on another, and slightly surprisingly, a pipe next to it.

"Okay, fine, you win. This is bloody fantastic. I thought — I thought the view into the lake would be terrible, with how murky it looks from above ground, but it's incredibly clear," Iris said, awed by just how blue the glow from the archway was.

"Mhm. Did you doubt the magical prowess of Salazar Slytherin?" the portrait said.

Iris shrugged, giving a noncommittal jerk of her head. "Honestly? I thought you were a bit of a nutter."

"Naturally, naturally," Salazar said, sounding much more calm and self-controlled than his usual self. She also noticed the way he was sitting, more of a kind of natural but confident swagger to it. He looked particularly impressive with the way the light from the lake bathed him in a blue glow. "Surprised, are you? What, did you think I was going to appear as I do now up above? Where the portraits listen in, ready to tell the headmaster anything he would like to know? Oh no, my dear."

Iris's jaw really did drop now. "You mean — no, you were completely —"

"Eccentric?" Salazar said impressively. "Oh, it wasn't all an act. I do enjoy lightening up and the occasional banter — naturally, who doesn't? — but no, Iris, I am not the, as you say, nutter as all but you now think. But it was not without reason. Do you think I would have wasted my chance? Waste my chance to become involved with the world once more through a prodigy that wouldn't besmirch my name further than it already has, that would make me proud as all those before you have failed to do? Do you think I would have thrown it all away by truly being the fool?"

Iris stared at him with a kind of reluctant respect. "You sly, sly bastard."

Salazar smirked smugly. "When Dumbledore told me of you, of your achievements, your Parseltongue ability, I knew. I knew that I had the chance to not only clean up my reputation, but to do what was taken from me by the other three — to teach. Muggle-borns, no, perhaps I didn't want to teach them, not back then anyway. You know this already. I will never be able to teach a classroom full of students, no, but I will be more than glad with assisting you in achieving world domination."

"I'm not going to try for world domination, you great git."

He ignored her. "Act the fool, act the fool all you would like, but do not be the fool," Salazar said wisely. "You took a similar approach as me, did you not? Your goal was to act like such a fool that the rumors of darkness festering inside you will die out. Not what I would have done, but it worked! Or did it? No, really, I haven't the slightest clue."

Iris smiled weakly. "Rita Skeeter gave another article about it, and yeah, she's sorta a joke now — here in Hogwarts, at least."

She lifted her bag to her stomach and rummaged through it, pulling out the Daily Prophet after a moment. She flipped past the first two pages and then held it up for Salazar to see it.

"Iris Potter declares herself a Dark Lady?" Salazar read. "Witch Queen? You named yourself —"

"No, of course not. She did." Iris tossed the Daily Prophet into the fireplace and then pointed her wand toward it. "Incendio. She made up something about me deciding that would be the name I'd go by once I was older. I'm not sure how Rita managed to get the Daily Prophet to publish it. I'm not even sure why Rita herself wrote it. No one's taking it seriously."

"Looks as though they've had some reservations about it," Salazar said. "Wasn't on the front page, was it? And your plan worked, I suppose. This reporter will think twice before publishing something else about you…" They fell into silence for a moment. "Witch Queen, eh? I like it. There was once a Wizard King."

"Wizard King?" Iris looked up at Salazar, skeptical.

"Didn't live during or before my time," Salazar admitted. He hesitated in continuing. "I had Dumbledore get a house-elf to read me a few history books. I wanted to catch up on the world. A dark wizard, named Aurelius Evermore, once named himself Wizard King, wanting to be thought of as the king of all wizards — attempted to become immortal. Took two hundred years, but he fell. But I suppose the name does sound a bit negative, Witch Queen, makes you seem a bit dark..."

"I'm a silly little child now, actually," Iris said, nodding to the burning paper, "who throws temper tantrums. Better than being evil, I suppose. I honestly don't really care anymore. I just want to survive this tournament. I'm done with expectations, the public opinion, and all that nonsense."

"Then — let — me — help," Salazar urged, looking at her fiercely. "I will no longer act the fool, not around you. We will jest, we will laugh, we will not take everything seriously, but you will let me guide you, let me teach you. You can decline, of course, but why do that? You are playing with giants, and each are pulling an arm…"

Iris paled slightly, the blue glow from the lake making it impossible for Salazar to see. "I didn't say that. That was my — my other self, and how do you know that? Did Dumbledore recite the entire thing to you all?"

"No, he simply placed your memory of it into his Pensieve."

"He has a copy of my memory of the event?"

"See, this is why I don't trust him."

"What?" Iris said. "I don't find it suspicious, I just think it's weird that the whole thing was recorded and kept."

"He played the memories of the other champions as well. Theirs weren't nearly as exciting. Well, no," Salazar admitted, "Warrington attempting to hide as a hydra destroyed Hogwarts was most entertaining. Thank the gods I didn't acquire one for the lake."

Iris shook her head. "I think I might have been your heir before we did the blood ritual. Throwing a hydra in the lake would be something I'd do. You didn't really think about doing it? You know they're considered the biggest magical creature on the planet, right? Magical and non-magical, actually. Your basilisk was enormous and it would have been a good meal for a hydra, wouldn't it?"

Salazar shrugged. "The size depends. Just as it would a basilisk. Some don't grow any larger than a manticore, some become as large as the one Warrington faced, bigger than the castle itself. There's no way to tell how large they'd grow — thus, my hesitation."

"Thank god they like the deep sea," Iris said, resisting a shudder.

There were few magical creatures that really frightened her, that she really wouldn't fancy meeting — for the first time or simply again: basilisks, manticores, dragons, and hydras were some of them. She was sure there were numerous more, but she had only researched magical creatures that had a chance to pop up in the tournament; she only had faint knowledge of other truly frightening monsters and atrocities such as aswangs, wendigos, or draugr, all much more rare than the typical magical creature.

Iris sat down heavily in a chair, sighing. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't give you what you're asking for," Iris said. "I'm tired. Not just from yesterday, though that was a downright mess, but from everything. I'm not even halfway through this tournament and all I want to do is just sleep for a month. All the training I've been doing, it's bloody exhausting."

"I am not asking you to spent every evening here studying," Salazar said, sounding indifferent. "Do you think the way to greatness is through constantly pushing yourself? No, that is how you stretch yourself thin and eventually snap." Salazar snapped his fingers for emphasis. "But you're on that path nonetheless."

"What are you talking about? Besides figuring out the clue for the third task, I haven't been putting much effort into anything — besides Transfiguration, but that's because I've been getting pretty good at it and McGonagall is no longer being a complete —"

"You misunderstand," Salazar said, and his tone was only slightly gentle. "I meant what I said. You act the fool, but you are not the fool. But the act has gone too far, and you know it. There isn't one way to break yourself. You needn't stretch yourself thin to snap. What you are doing, acting the fool, burying yourself in jests to hide the pain, the anger, the trauma, it will all come crashing down eventually."

Iris squirmed in her seat. "I don't know if I like you being all nice and caring. It's weird."

"Listen to me," he said more forcefully. "Burying the suffering, the rage, the stress — will — not — work. I just told you this, and what is it you do? You joke. I do not say this because I despise humor, you know I do not, but I would rather not see you break under the pressure. You are attempting to dilute the unpleasant by adding falsities, and eventually it will all spill out of the bowl, leaving you with a mess. You must find a new way to deal with it. Drain it, toss the contents into the nearby plant, find yourself a new bowl. Do not attempt to dilute it, do not let it be overfilled, and do not drink it, for you will only sicken yourself until you become just as corrupt. Do you understand?"

"Odd analogy, but I suppose." Iris picked up a rook from the chessboard next to her and examined it. "It's nice here. It'll be kind of annoying covering that wall in my blood all the time, or even coming all the way down here."

Salazar watched her place her place the rook back and slump, as though defeated. "You have undoubtedly heard of the Room of Requirement? But naturally, you and your curiosity… Simply ask the room for a shortcut here. As long as you have my ring on your finger, you won't have a problem. This room isn't physically connected to the castle, as you have probably deducted by now. Your blood, or the ring, will allow you to travel through the passageway leading to this room through the Chamber of Secrets or the Room of Requirement."

Iris nodded, her eyelids drooping as her lack of sleep finally began to catch up with her. It was so nice here, the blue glow, the peaceful ambience, the warmth of the fire.

Salazar didn't stop her from drifting off to sleep… but as she did so, as sleep took her in its arms and pulled her toward the abyss, filled with what would undoubtedly be nightmares and terrible things, a distant thought crept out of the tight embrace.

The room, shaped like an octagon — this made her think of an octopus — and this made her think of another sea creature with many arms: a squid — and this made her think of the giant squid — and this made her think of the fact that the giant squid had eight arms and two tentacles — and this made her think of the golden egg's song, of how she would need to find a key in one of eight.

She woke sometime later, her last thoughts before drifting to sleep now seeming too far away to grasp and pull to her, to understand. It irritated her. She knew it was important, knew it likely had something to do with the tournament, some important clue, but the information evaded her, deftly dodging her attempted grabs like the fish and the merman beyond the archway that she blearily watched.

"You are awake."

Iris didn't look up at the portrait. She continued to watch the merman attempt to spear the fish, but to no success. "Yeah."

"I've thought of a solution. You have learned meditation, have you not? You have used it for your Animagus progress."

Iris groaned. "How do you even know that? I don't remember telling you —"

"You spoke of it in Dumbledore's office," Salazar said. "There are portraits there, are there not?"

"Speaking of," Iris said, "you said you were acting the fool, but the other portraits have heard you say certain things that you might not want Dumbledore to overhear."

"All things I'm fine with the headmaster hearing. It's best he acquires some information. Now, meditation. Enough of the foolishness. Meditate. Relieve your anger and pain through meditation. Godric had a habit of... raging. Typical Gryffindor behavior, really. Rowena made him meditate —"

"I'm not meditating," Iris said, her tone as firm as the merman's spear was now — impaled straight through the fish. As she stood, moving to the bookcases, examining the tomes carefully, she saw that though some of the tomes looked ancient, others looked somewhat newer — those likely put there by Voldemort when he was younger.

"What relieves stress then?" Salazar asked. "There has to be —"

"Fleur," Iris said simply. "Dunno if it's the veela thing or not, but the days I spend with her are… nice. I love Hermione, I really do, but I feel like I have to be careful of what I say around her sometimes, especially lately. I told her what my original plan was, to bribe and potion Fudge."

"Look at me."

Iris turned and looked at him, eyebrows raised at his stark tone.

"You are far too weak to resort to that of which can land you in prison. If you want me to tell you where the safe is, you will better yourself. Do you understand? Bribe and potion your Minister of Magic? And if you were caught? No," he said, somehow lightly and resolutely at the same time. "That is acting the fool. You must not become so. You must master yourself."

"Fine." Iris sighed. "Man, I just woke up and I'm already getting yelled at. I thought this place would be different than the dormitory."

"I was not yelling at you," Salazar said stiffly, clutching his staff closer once again. It was some odd kind of defensive gesture, Iris figured. "Don't you understand? I spent centuries down here alone. I could not move from my two portraits here to the ones above, not while they were down here, so I was left in silence and darkness. And then, Tom Riddle came. I was excited, hopeful, foolish, and when Tom Riddle left, I found myself disappointed, aghast, and feeling like a failure."

"And now you want to have another go," Iris said, "but with me this time."

"I will not deny that I would use you for my own gain, to wash away the tarnish and stains that have been left upon my name. But I will attempt to look after you as best I can, as though you were a child of — well, perhaps not, I've never been a great father figure, but —"

"I don't need to be looked after." Her tone was flat and emotionless. "I don't want to be some apprentice. I don't want to dedicate my life to clearing your name of — of whatever. I don't even plan to have a kid. I can't be a mother. I can't be what you want. I just told you what you wanted to hear. I can't believe it took me being told I would be looked after by you, of all people, for me to see what an idiot I am."

Iris laughed bitterly.

"You are not an idiot," Salazar said into the silence that followed. "Nor am I. I never expected you to be truthful. I never expected you to be my apprentice. I am only a portrait, and portraits can not train people."

"You just said you wanted to teach. Didn't you? That you'd settle for this?"

"And I can. I can teach, but I can not train. In the end, you must master yourself. There will be no nightly or weekly lessons. But you may come to me whenever you wish. I can lecture, I can talk to you, but I can not duel you — and for anything I say to matter, you must have someone to practice with."

"What, dueling?"

"I don't believe Tom will stop coming after you."

Iris snorted. "He's like eighty. He had over fifty years of experience and skill on me. I could spend the next five years training and I still wouldn't be able to beat him."

"But you would be able to hold your own, to defend yourself. There is no shame in that." Salazar took a weary breath. "Now, the safe. Not even Tom has opened it, he hasn't even known of it, and perhaps I will one day regret showing you, but if so, then I will simply accept that I have terrible luck and that I can't help but have dark witches and wizards fall into my hands."

Iris smiled a little.

"So," Salazar began, "how about you look through the safe? The ring, a few books — none of real importance, I was just too lazy to find their spots on the bookcase — and my own notes, and even another portrait that you can place where you'd like."

Iris examined his portrait, looking for any signs of wearing or damage. "How many portraits could you possibly need?"

"I was offered to have the paintings done for free." He clutched his staff close again, and Iris had to fight back a laugh at the ridiculous gesture. "Was I to decline?"

"Free, huh? Sounds like quality."

"It was quality!" Salazar threw his hands up impatiently. "Well? It's behind the notice board. Slide the lock holding the board in place, it's on the right side — yes, there you go, now pull it back —"

"Wow, an empty wall," Iris said as she let the notice board swing outward. "Quite impressive, Salazar."

"You need blood, you impudent —"

"Yes, yes, I'm on it," Iris said, already cutting open her skin for what felt like the hundredth time. "Crazy bastard," she muttered. "Just smear it on there?"

"Smear it, and as you smear, speak in Parseltongue and say smear."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Just do it."

"Fine." And switching to Parseltongue, she hissed halfheartedly, "Smear."

"Withdraw your hand. And say reveal yourself."

"Reveal yourself."

"In Parseltongue."

"Reveal yourself."

And from the empty wall, just as the door leading here had simply sprung into existence, a rectangular door appeared. It was a simple, black, a single handle, nothing more.

"Cast the Levitation Charm on it," Salazar said.

"The Levitation Charm?" Iris looked over her shoulder at Salazar in confusion and incredulity. "Why? Do I need to lift it out of the wall?"

"It is another safety precaution," Salazar said imperiously. "The safe is charmed against magic, except for the lock, which can only have the Levitation Charm used upon it. Use it and the lock will lift, allowing you to pull the handle and therefore the door. The ring will allow you to bypass all these protections."

Iris turned her head back to the safe slowly, raising both hands as she did so. She placed her left hand on the handle and pointed the wand in her right hand at the safe. "Wingardium Leviosa."

There was a small clicking sound and Iris immediately pulled.

The most noticeable thing inside was the frame of what was likely a portrait. She pulled it out first, looking into the empty space where something would be drawn — and then, suddenly, making her drop the portrait in fright, Salazar's face popped into frame.

"What in the — did you just drop my portrait? My portrait?"

"The picture was empty!" Iris defended. "You just jumped into it randomly, what was I supposed to do?"

Ignoring Salazar's grumbling, Iris moved the portrait to lean against the table and fetched the four books that lay inside the vault. She looked at the cover of each one.

A Collection of Poems by Edwin Canton. ("I can see why you wanted to keep this one hidden away so securely."

Thou Shall Wish Death Upon Thyself if Thou Read These Writings! ("I'm not going to die if I open this one, am I?")

Compendium of Household Charms

Into the Black, a Guide to Black Magic ("What's wrong with you, Salazar?")

"Er — are many of the other books like this? Filled with necromantic rituals and eldritch truths that drive the readers into insanity?"

"Not all, no." Salazar looked to realize what he had just said, and added, "Well, none drive you into insanity. I wouldn't store one of those books here. What would be the point? Best leave those in the ancient parts of this world, I say. Some of these books are quite gruesome, though. Take a look at that Black Magic book, look what the cover and pages are made of."

"Yeah, no, I'm okay. Isn't Black Magic the official term for necromancy and similar things? The darkest of Dark Magic?" Then she realized what Salazar had said right before that. "Wait, there are actually books that make you go mad? I was only joking! Hermione reads those Lovecraft books, I… I…"

Iris paused and looked over to the book on Black Magic.

"That's not made out of human skin, is it?" she said, feeling the sudden urge to cut off her own hands to cleanse herself.

"Don't know," Salazar said lightly. "Maybe. It does feel rather odd, doesn't it? Touch it."

Iris ignored him, and resisting the urge to set the book on Black Magic on fire, she moved back to the safe. She pulled out an ancient looking notebook, another book hidden behind a large sack of something that jangled, titled The Most Advanced of Blood Sorcery, a small black box, and a wand that her magic seemed to be repulsed by.

"Is this your wand?"

"No," Salazar said quietly. "Throw it in the fire, Iris. I do not wish to see it anymore."

Iris frowned for a moment, staring down at the wand that she knew wouldn't work for her in the slightest, before she shrugged and tossed the wand into the fire. The fire exploded outward for a few seconds, making Iris fear that it might set something on fire — but it went back to normal.

"Hey, Salazar?" Iris asked, a sudden thought popping up in her head. "Think I should just leave Britain? Save myself the trouble?"

* * *

If you're unsure why it ends here, read the notes at the top.


	16. Epilogue - An Early Departure

**Author's Notes:**

The first chapter for the "rewrite" is up. But it's not even remotely a rewrite anymore. It might as well be a mostly new story at this point, but with Iris's characterization still there. I also said that I was going to be doing the first three years in the new story. Yeah, well, I'm full of shit. The first chapter starts before Hogwarts but the second chapter starts near the end of second year. So we're skipping all of first year and most of second year.

The whole Sirius/Pettigrew plot for third year is also completely thrown out. You'll be looking at an entirely new plot. Fourth year, the five task Triwizard Tournament, and possibly Fleur's romance, will come around again.

Here's a sort of epilogue for this. Understand that this epilogue is not what I had originally planned for this story. It was not part of the plan or outline. But the ending wasn't supposed to come this early, so take it for what it is. It's mostly lighthearted.

Should I mark this as complete? I mean, it _kinda_ is.

* * *

 **o**

 **Epilogue**

 **An Early Departure**

 **o**

 _1996, June 20, Saturday._

She watched the sunset from the tallest tower. She wished she had gone here from the very beginning, that she hadn't even bothered with Hogwarts. Outside of her friendship with Hermione, and she supposed Ron, not much good had come from it. Here, though, was amazing. The view was more beautiful than the one from Hogwarts. But maybe she was biased.

There were a lot of rainy days at Hogwarts, and rarely was there a day quite as beautiful as this, _here_ , in the Pyrenees mountains. Fleur was right. Beauxbatons was much better than Hogwarts. It might not have been quite as large, though its size was close, but the white stone, the blue roofing, the summer feel of it all — yes, she should have gone to Beauxbatons from the beginning. Things would have gone much simpler then. Smoother.

She might have met Fleur earlier. She might have felt Fleur's arms wrap around her waist much earlier, her body press against her back, like it was now.

Iris leaned back into her. She might have had a more pleasant life. She might not have gone through utter hell by the time she was fifteen years old. She might have been able to get a good night's sleep without nightmares when sleeping alone.

But it didn't matter now. She did have someone with her, and though a student-professor relationship was usually discouraged, Fleur was only a teacher aide — and so, there were never nights where she was alone. Fleur wasn't even planning on staying once Iris graduated Beauxbatons, which was in a few days. She had taken the job purely to stay close to her, something that warmed Iris's heart (something Hermione had jokingly claimed she thought impossible). She couldn't wait to see Madame Maxime's face when she found out.

After Iris had saved Fleur's sister's life in the third task and Fleur's life in the fifth, _and_ after she had realized just how far she was taking her competitiveness, Madame Maxime had apologized to both Fleur and Iris. Not that it stopped Iris from continuing being a general pain in the ass anyway.

"Are you okay?" Fleur asked in French and that magnificent accent that Iris had repeatedly called a mental massage.

"Yes," Iris said in English. She had become fairly good at French over the last year, but English was simply a habit for her, even now. Still, she knew more than enough to not have many problems in classes. She had even taken her O.W.L.S. in France. She had gotten Exceeds Expectations on Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Herbology; an Acceptable in Astronomy; a Troll in History of Magic, which she found hilarious; and an Outstanding in Defense, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures — though, that last one might have been so because Astra had felt the need to Flash into the room during the practical exam. The examiner had seen the phoenix and had almost given Iris an Outstanding on the spot for her ability to domesticate one.

Fleur kissed the side of her head. "You're brooding."

"... _No_."

"An elegant response."

"It's just — well — we're leaving soon. I'm taking in the view again."

"Mm, yes, we are," Fleur said. "We will travel the world together, but we will come back. Our home will be in France. You can see it from here."

Iris snorted. "No, you definitely cannot."

"If you removed a few mountains, most definitely," said Fleur. "We will see plenty of other wonderful views; you, me, and Hermione — no?"

"You really are okay with her coming with?"

"Of course," Fleur said, sliding her hands down Iris's waist, to her hips, and over her thighs. "As long as she can give us privacy. I like Hermione, she will not be a bother. And if there are ever times where we cannot find privacy —"

"We'll just give her an interesting book," Iris finished, a little breathily due to Fleur's wandering hands. "We could strip naked in front of her and she wouldn't notice."

"We could strip naked _here_ ," Fleur said in her ear.

Iris laughed. "Fleur, quit that."

"Not if it makes you laugh. You've been laughing more lately. I'm glad." Fleur sighed. "I missed it. Thank you."

Iris shrugged. "You can thank yourself. If you hadn't convinced Madame Maxime to let me come here — if you hadn't been there for me — I'd be in Azkaban."

"Non," Fleur said lightly, "Azkaban would not hold you. You would have escaped."

Iris gave a casual tilt of her head. "Probably."

Azkaban.

The thought gave Iris chills. She had come so close to it.

It had all gone to hell after the fifth task, really. She had gotten to the Triwizard Cup first. Fleur and Krum hadn't got there before herself and Cassius Warrington, but Cassius had been too busy fighting off the yeti. So Iris had just… _grabbed it._

She should have known. The potion to bring back Voldemort needed to have been done near a solstice, Voldemort had told her this himself, but she had forgotten about the summer solstice… Her and her damn mouth… it had nearly killed her, nearly broken her… _had_ broken her. She understood why the Longbottoms had gone insane. The Cruciatus Curse was a horror that didn't deserve to exist, and _Voldemort_ , he had been so angry, so full of _rage_. He hadn't just tortured her with the single curse.

Seeing muggles Polyjuiced as her friends get brutally slaughtered in front of her still haunted her. Her back was still scarred, would be permanently, from the cursed fire whip Voldemort had used on her. Her arms, too, still had the marks from the Inferi that had been set on her.

 _Time for a family reunion_.

She had thought the words had meant he would kill her, that she would rejoin her parents in death — but _no_ , she had instead finally found out what had happened when her parents' graves were desecrated in March. He had taken their corpses and had used it in a task of his own — the unofficial sixth task, the one she was still recovering from.

She had been forced to make sure her parents' corpses could no longer move to continue his task. But not with a wand. No, Voldemort had given her a rock. It was the only time that Iris could remember outright sobbing. Horrible, agonizing, gut-wrenching gasps and tears that shook her body with tremors.

She felt tears welling up just from the thought of it.

She had taken his title from him. She had killed one of his servants and stopped his revival months prior to it. She had made fun of him before, after, and during her kidnappings. And she had paid for it all. She had been so utterly broken once Voldemort finally killed her. He had Portkeyed her back to Hogwarts, dead.

She had come back to life, of course, but she was unresponsive, desolated, defeated. While dead, she heard vague whispers of her name, from a man and woman, but she was too gone to respond to them, even in the afterlife — limbo — purgatory — whatever it was called.

And when she had finally come back to herself many days later in the hospital wing, where Hermione had burst into tears at her first sign of actual life, not just a heartbeat, she had found that Fleur had already left. That hurt. But it wasn't as though it really compared to the pain Voldemort had caused her. She had no fight left in her. No snark. No liveliness. Voldemort had, in a way, really killed her.

Then at Privet Drive, where Sirius was spending time with her in his dog form to comfort her, the Aurors came. And the list of charges…

Being an illegal Animagus. They had found that out when people witnessed her transform during the final task.

Helping Sirius Black. Voldemort had gotten Lucius Malfoy to tell Fudge about Sirius's form, which had been told to Voldemort by Wormtail. The fact that Sirius was literally in her room when the Aurors barged in didn't help.

Murder of an Auror. One of the two that had come for her, actually. That had been an accident, but it happened nonetheless.

Murder of Barty Crouch and Rita Skeeter. Okay, she had definitely killed Rita Skeeter, but that was _also_ an accident. It wasn't her fault Rita had been the beetle she had crushed. How they thought she had killed Barty Crouch she had no bloody idea. She hadn't stayed around to hear the details.

There were a few more charges as well. They had blamed the horned serpent's escape on her too and some other stuff. And so she had fled. Sirius had taken her to Grimmauld Place. And then one day she had gotten a letter from Fleur, saying France was willing to offer her a fair trial.

Dumbledore hadn't wanted her to go, but he had no real authority to tell her what to do anymore, especially as she couldn't ever go back to Hogwarts. The fact that he told her she shouldn't leave the country through a Patronus rather than face to face only pissed her off. She had found out later that he was worried about her connection to Voldemort; she had never told him about taking a Killing Curse to the face and ridding herself of the connection.

Hermione and Sirius had left with her. Sirius had been given a fair trial as well, and he had gotten off completely free. Iris on the other hand… her matters were a bit more complicated. In the end she had to pay an enormous fine for her crimes. They had ruled the deaths of Rita Skeeter and the Auror her indirect fault, and as she was still a minor, she hadn't been given any prison time.

And so a year went by at Beauxbatons. Fleur was a teacher aide. Iris and Hermione prepared for their O.W.L.S. in the new school and had taken them at the end of their fifth year. Sirius had bought himself and Iris two homes near Beauxbatons. Fleur had gladly taken Iris's offer of moving in with her, even if she had barely spent any time there so far. But with Astra, they were able to travel there whenever they wished.

Dumbledore still sent her monthly letters asking her to reconsider returning. He had never attempted to force her to, but as he never gave her the real reason for why she should return, only saying vague things like " _I'm afraid the reason cannot be —_ " blah, blah blah, Iris never bothered to read any more.

Her letters back to him were always incomplete. She would stop writing mid-sentence, give the parchment to Astra, and Astra would Flash to Dumbledore's office, throw the incomplete letter in his face, and then give an actual letter to McGonagall, who had respected Iris's wishes and even defended her.

While she spent a year at Beauxbatons, studying and learning with Hermione, fooling around and exploring her relationship with Fleur, and generally antagonizing half of the school, things back in Britain were… not well.

Some bitch in pink had begun taking over Hogwarts, Arthur Weasley had been killed by Nagini on one of Dumbledore's missions, the Weasleys refused to leave Britain out of a need for revenge — it was all terrible, really.

But Fudge had apparently finally gotten his head out of his own ass and accepted that Voldemort was back — a week ago, in fact, when Voldemort shown up at the Ministry itself. That had been the only time Iris had helped Dumbledore. She had made sure a rumor reached Britain about Fleur visiting the country.

Voldemort took his chance. His plan, helped along with Snape, _coincidentally_ , was to let a Death Eater get purposely Stunned by Iris when he attempted to attack her, and Iris was to find a letter on him talking of how they had Fleur. Iris had found the letter — the problem for Voldemort, however, was that Fleur had been with her at the very moment she had run into the Death Eater out in the French equivalent of Diagon Alley. She had used Salazar Slytherin's portrait to tell Dumbledore that she had received the information. Salazar had a portrait at Hogwarts, her own home, and in her private room at Beauxbatons.

Nymphadora Tonks, a Metamorphmagus, had turned her appearance into an exact replica of Iris (after visiting France to study Iris), and had shown up at the Ministry. She wished she could have seen the expression on Voldemort's face when Tonks, still looking like Iris Potter, had displayed Auror-level skill in dueling.

Of course, Tonks didn't really stand a chance against Voldemort, but Dumbledore had shown up at the perfect moment — the two wizards dueled, destroyed the Atrium, and — well, Iris didn't care for the rest.

And now the world was aware of Voldemort's return, Britain was screaming for Iris's return, Iris had sent the biggest fuck you letter back, and she, Fleur, and Hermione were about to travel the whole damn world.

There was a decent chance they'd be hunted by Death Eaters or Voldemort himself, but she wasn't too worried. Dumbledore had informed her that he was hunting down objects called Horcruxes to finally make Voldemort mortal, and that she herself had been one in a way. He had also finally informed her of the prophecy, but had said that if it was needed, he would simply beat Voldemort in a duel and deliver his body to her for her to finish.

"There's Astra," Fleur said, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Iris looked up and saw Astra gliding toward them.

"Let's go to our home for the evening, Iris," Fleur said, giving a lingering kiss on her neck.

Iris closed her eyes and slowly nodded.

Astra swooped down and in a flash of light, a clap of thunder, the three of them vanished from the tower and reappeared in their mountainside home, overlooking some of the same mountains. Hermione sat in the living room, reading and enjoying the sunset. Fleur gave both Iris and Hermione a wink before heading to Iris's bedroom — which was really Fleur's, too. She whispered in Iris's ear as she passed.

"Hurry. This might be the last time we'll make use of our bed for a while."

"Astra, mind taking me back to Hogwarts?" Hermione said, standing up. "I don't really need to hear these two."

Iris smiled at her best friend. "We'll put up a privacy charm."

Hermione glared. "That's what you always say. I'm beginning to believe you purposely leave it down, just so I can hear everything."

"It's an honest mistake," Iris said. "Though, if you ever want to —"

"I'm not going to join you two!" Hermione said, turning red as she always did when Iris brought the matter up. "Honestly, just — just _go_. I'll put up a Silencing Charm if you forget."

Iris shrugged. "If you say so. I bet I can make Fleur break through the charm if she —"

"Oh, for the love of —"

Iris gave a small smile to herself as Hermione left the room. Things were good. She had Fleur, Hermione, and if Dumbledore's latest letter was any indication, hopefully a Voldemort-free world soon.

Hermione's voice bellowed from somewhere else in the house.

"Iris! Stop turning Crookshanks into a lion!"

Iris yelled back, "He needed an upgrade!"

"An _upgrade_?" Hermione said, coming back into the room clutching Crookshanks in her arms. "He's the same size! You didn't even — he only looks different!"

"Fine," Iris said, her wand materializing in her hand. "I don't know how you just now noticed that, but I'll turn him into a fully grown lion if it's so important."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, no, Iris, don't you dare —"

In the main bedroom, Fleur sat up in bed, hearing a loud roar echo throughout the home. She wasn't sure if it was a lion or Hermione. Moments later, Iris burst into the room. She flopped on the bed and attempted to look alluring.

Hermione ran into the room a moment later, breathing hard. "Iris, you — I — oh." Hermione stared at Iris and Fleur as they lay in their bed. Fleur wasn't wearing much. Hermione gave a deep sigh. "Is the front door locked?"

"Why?" Fleur asked.

"So Crookshanks doesn't leave the house and _eat_ someone."

"Crookshanks never ate that hiker, Hermione," Iris said, rolling her eyes. "And we repaired his arm, didn't we? How many times do I have to apologize for that?"

Hermione stared at Iris, unimpressed.

"Fine, one last apology?" Iris said, sharing a glance at Fleur. "I'll make you forget I ever angered you. Correction. Fleur and I will make you forget I ever angered you. Hop in bed, Hermione."

Hermione's expression either meant she was seriously considering it or she had finally realized what she had signed up for when she had agreed to come with Iris and Fleur on their trip. Iris wasn't sure if Hermione was reaching to pull her shirt off or to pull out her wand and curse her.

Probably the latter, Fleur thought with a fond smile at Iris, who looked on with foolish hope.


End file.
